


The True King

by trishamart



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:19:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 77,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12450429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishamart/pseuds/trishamart
Summary: What if, instead of being executed, Ned was granted to go to the Night's Watch?  What if he told Jon the truth of his parentage?





	1. Taking the Black

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been on my mind since I finished watching the series in a week.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in the darkness. It could have been days or weeks. Chains bound him to the wall, keeping him in his position for too long. His ass and legs were numb from sitting for so long. 

There was nothing to do in the dark except wait and think. He thought about everything, everything that had led to that very moment. 

He thought about his mother and father, his brothers and sister. Lyanna, whose hand he had held as she had died, whisperings words into his ear. His father and elder brother who had been murdered by the Mad King while he fought on the battlefields with Robert. He had not been able to save any of them, they had all died and left him to pick up the pieces of the Stark family. His younger brother even left him to join the wall. 

He was no stranger to loneliness or secrets, he had kept quite a few over the years. Secrets that could have gotten him and his family killed. Now as he sat in his cell, he wondered if it had all been worth it.

In the distance a glow emerges from the darkness. A torch lighting the face of Lord Varys, the only man who had been honest with him in King’s Landing. “You've seen better days, my lord.”

“Another visit? lt seems you're my last friend.” Varys handed him a pouch. He hoped it was water, he hadn’t had anything to drink in days, let alone anything to eat. Why feed a dead man?

“No, no, many still love you. Sansa came to court this morning to plead for your life.” 

“On her knees begging for me. Hm! Did you laugh with the others?” Sansa, his beautiful girl that looked so much like her mother. She was so proper and obsessed with etiquette, very different from his youngest daughter Arya.

“You do me wrong, my lord. Your blood is the last thing l want.”

“l don't know what you want. l've given up trying to guess.” He ha been fighting for so long, it was almost a relief to be sitting here in his cell.

“When l was still a boy - before they cut my balls off with a hot knife - l traveled with a group of actors through the free cities. They taught me that each man has a role to play. The same is true at court. l am the master of whisperers. My role is to be sly, obsequious and without scruples. l'm a good actor, my lord.” Varys might be the most interesting man in all of Westeros and yet here he was talking to a dead man. 

“Huh. Can you free me from this pit?” The question is almost a prayer, a prayer to leave this hell hole.  
“l could. But will l? No. As l said, l'm no hero.” A hero, hah, neither was Ned. 

“What do you want? Tell me. No riddles, no stories. Tell me, what do you want?” Pleading with him, tell me!! Varys always seem to know everything all the time. Fitting, he was the spider. Always there but never seen. 

“Peace.” The simplest answer anyone could give. “Did you know that your son is marching south with an army of northmen? Loyal lad. Fighting for his father's freedom.”

“Robb?” No, he didn’t want to believe it, Robb was still so young. He was also very noble and would do anything to protect his family. “He's just a boy.” 

“Boys have been conquerors before. But the man giving Cersei sleepless nights is the king's the late king's brother. Lord Stannis has the best claim to the throne. He is a proven battle commander and he is utterly without mercy.” 

“Stannis Baratheon is Robert's true heir. The throne is his by rights.” He knows the truth, but that truth means his death. If only he weren’t so honorable, if only he could let a lie become truth. No, a lie is a lie no matter how much you wish it weren’t so.

“Sansa pleaded so sweetly for your life. It would be a shame to throw it away. Cersei is no fool. She knows a tame wolf is more use to her than a dead one.” Varys wants something from him, but what could he give him, he was a dead man in a cell.

“You want me to serve the woman who murdered my king, who butchered my men, who crippled my son?” The suggestion was unbearable, go against everything he believed in to keep up a smoke screen of deception. 

“l want you to serve the realm! Tell the queen you will confess your vile treason, tell your son to lay down his sword and proclaim Joffrey as the true heir.” Varys almost sounded like he was pleading with him to turn away his honor. “Cersei knows you as a man of honor. lf you give her the peace she needs, and promise to carry her secret to your grave, l believe she will allow you to take the black and live out your days on the Wall with your brother and your bastard son.” 

Ned, chuckled, “you think my life is some precious thing to me? That l would trade my honor for a few more years of- Of what? You grew up with actors. You learned their craft and you learnt it well. But l grew up with soldiers. l learned how to die a long time ago.” In the deepest recesses of his mind was always the inevitability of his death. He wasn’t afraid of dying, only a man who hadn’t seen what he had would be afraid. 

“Pity. Such a pity. What of your daughter's life, my lord? Is that a precious thing to you?” Varys sounded disappointed. He moved to walk away and he did but he moved back after a few steps. “Your life might not mean anything to you, but what about to your family? You are a good man, why waste it? There is still so much you could do with your life.” This time he left for good, taking the light and leaving Ned in the darkness.

What could he do? If he took the black he would have to give up everything, his home, his wife and children. He doubted Cersei would even let him leave alive even if she granted him to take the black. He was screwed either way. 

What if he did take the black? He could go back home, not to Winterfell but to the north. He never felt comfortable anywhere but the cold. He could tell Jon the truth. After all these years he could finally lift the secrets that he had guarded. But telling Jon was dangerous, but he deserved to know the truth. He deserved to hear the truth from his lips. Jon could be a great leader one day, goodness knows he has the blood for it. 

He had two choices, death with his secrets or lose everything and die with a clear conscience in a few years. He knew that choosing the wall would still be dangerous, doing anything in this kingdom was dangerous. But, if he made it to the wall, he could finally tell Jon the truth about his birth, a story he has been waiting his whole life to hear. 

He made up his mind. 

He will take the black and go to the wall. 

***********************************************************

It was hours later that Varys came back. This time he stood there waiting for Ned to speak first.  
“I’ll take the black.”

Varys looked like he might have smiled but a second later it was gone and his usual look was back in place. “I had hoped you would.”

“Will I be allowed to?”

“Yes, but you will leave tonight with a guard of 10 men escorting you.” 

“Will I be able to say goodbye to Sansa?”

“I’m afraid not my lord. It was part of the conditions.”

“I’m surprised she is letting me leave.”

“Yes, it is very surprising, but there were other conditions.” He finally gave a look of discomfort of the conversation.

“Which are?” He almost didn’t want to ask, maybe if he didn’t ask then there would be no conditions.  
“Well, your son Robb will end the war and the north will concede.” 

“What about Sansa? Will she go north as well?” He almost didn’t want to ask, to still keep the hope that she would become free as well. 

“No, Lady Sansa will stay in King’s Landing.”

“As a hostage?”

“As a guest.” The label might be guest, but Ned knew better. Sansa would pay the price for all of the mistakes his family had made. She will stay and be tortured while everyone else was able to go home. “What if I refuse to leave without Sansa?”

“Then you will die and Sansa along with you.” Varys almost looked guilty. “Sansa will be safe here.”

“You know as well as I do, that this place is safe for no one.”

“You might be right, but what other choice is there?” Varys caught him, there were only two choices, live or die. If he died, Sansa would be tortured and wish she was dead or die with him, Robb would go to war and die, the Lannisters would still get Winterfell and Bran and Rickon would die and Jon would go throughout his life not knowing the truth. If he lived, there would be a chance to save all of his children. 

“There is no other choice.”


	2. Heading North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still more build of the story. Ned heads north and so does Robb.

Varys walked back to the small council chamber to rely what Lord Stark had decided. The council had grown smaller over the years till only Maester Pycelle, Lord Baelish and Lord Varys were left. Today they were joined by the queen.

“Did he agree?” The queen already looked bored and he hadn’t spoken yet.

“Yes.” Varys was unsure how to voice his opinion correctly. “Your Grace, might I suggest something?”

“What?”

“Don’t give Winterfell to the them just yet.”

“Why not?”

“The north is loyal only to the Starks, take them away and I’m sure there will be a rebellion.” Everyone knew this. The north was a hard place to live and they only trusted their kind.

“You want to let them keep it? Like a reward for openly rebelling?” He could tell that she was outraged. When she was this outraged she had a glint of madness in her eyes.

He had to clarify quickly. “No, I would put conditions and have a person loyal to you in charge. At least for a while.”

Lord Baelish jumped in, “The eldest boy is betrothed if my sources are correct. To a Frey girl.” He had an evil smile carved on his face, he always had that glint in his face. Varys didn’t care for Lord Baelish, he was only interested in how everything affected him and manipulated people to further his interests. Varys’ only concern was for the realm and Lord Baelish was not for the realm.

The queen had a face half bored, have furious. “What the fuck do I care?”

Baelish had a way of talking that made it seem as if he was bored with a subject when in actuality he was extremely interested in the outcome. “The Freys have been disloyal in the past. Give them a nudge and they might just take him out for you.”

The Freys were a disgusting sort of people, extremely unattractive and rude. No one liked the Freys, Varys doubted anyone would actually talk to them if they weren’t situated over the only bridge across the great river. “And why would they do that?”

“Give them a better match and I’ll bet they would do anything.”

“That only solves the problem of one of them.” Varys felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time, regret. He liked Lord Stark and here he was in the meeting that was plotting his families’ downfall.

“Well, the next oldest boy is crippled for life, no chance of an heir and the youngest would be easy. Marry Sansa to someone you trust, then you would have control of the north. Solves everything and there is less chance of a rebellion.” Baelish had it all planned out, as if he had been planning it for a while.

“Perfect.” The queen stood up suddenly and glided out of the room. As she walked out of the door she stopped for only a moment. “Do it.”

****************************************************************************

Before Ned was allowed to make his way north to the wall, all parties had to agree to the considerations. A raven was sent to Robb’s camp holding the conditions. It arrived in the early morning, the morning after Robb had agreed to marry Lord Frey’s daughter in exchange for crossing the Twins.

Robb was held up in his tent going over the battle strategies alone. While staring at the map of the seven kingdoms, his guard came in with a note bearing the Lannister seal. “A note, Lord Stark.” He handed him the note and after Robb nodded his head, went out the way he came.

Robb broke the seal and read the note.

_Robb Stark_

_Your father has yielded. He will take the black instead of death. Ladies Sansa and Arya shall remain in King's Landing as guests, while awaiting the wedding of King Joffery to lady Sansa. Concede the war and return home or death will become you._

_Grand Maester Pycelle_

_Acting hand of the King_

_King Joffery of house Baratheon_

_The First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm_

His mother came into the tent then. “Robb. I was told a Raven came from King’s Landing.” Robb didn’t say anything, he just handed the note to his mother. He watched her face as she read it. She gasped as she finished, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“They are letting father leave?” Robb was shocked, without King Robert to back him, his father was in a very dangerous place without help. This seemed too easy, the royal family was too vile to actually keep someone they thought was a liability alive. Would they get him out of the city and then kill him? “What can I tell the men?”

“You tell them that your father is alive.” Lady Stark was ecstatic, her husband was alive.

His mother seemed too happy to have actually considered the effects of this decision. “You do realize what this means?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter. Your father is alive.” She had a huge smile on her face, a smile he hadn’t seen since before the royal family had come to Winterfell so long ago.

“Yes, he’s alive but he won’t be with us. He will be at the wall with Jon.” At the mention of Jon’s name, his mother face distorted into hatred. He never understood why she hated Jon so much, it wasn’t Jon’s fault he was a bastard. “My men followed men to free my father. Now what? We tuck our tails and concede?”

“Robb, this not a failure but a success.”

“It is a failure. Father is being shipped away and we will be controlled by the Lannisters for the foreseeable future.”

“What is the other choice? Go to war? Your father will be killed and probably your sisters as well. Thousands of men will die. What would you hope to gain, you started this to free your father and now he will be free.” His mother was pleading with him. He turned to the table where the map of Westeros was laid out. They were still mainly in the north, surrounded by their allies. There was still so much land between where they were and Kings Landing.

He pressed his fists into the table, pissed that they had been outmaneuvered. “There is no other choice, we have to concede.” The words tried to catch in his throat, refusing to come out. The word concede felt like sawdust in his mouth. He was not looking forward to having to tell his men that the war was over, without any real gains. Well they had one gain, if you could call it that, he now had a future wife. He tried not to hate that word or the woman it was associated with, a woman he hasn’t met. He was so stupid, he agreed to marry a woman so her father would allow him past his land but then a day later he didn’t even need it. “When will we head north?”

“You did give your word that you would marry on of Walder Frey’s daughters.”

“I know.” He wasn’t likely to forget that anytime soon, but there was so much work to be done. They had lost more than half of their household to the south, they were running low on supplies and Robb wasn’t ready to be the Lord of Winterfell yet. He hadn’t had the chance, his father had only been gone a short while before Robb called the Banner men and left. How was he supposed to do everything all at once? Jon could have done it, he was better at strategy and planning. He was always quiet, observing everything, it gave him an edge on almost everything. The one thing that Robb was better at was talking to women. He knew that when they were younger, Jon would try so hard to be worse than Robb, or his mother would become very angry. Robb would let him but as soon as they were out of her sight, he would convince Jon to fight full force. Jon would always win then, he was naturally better. Robb had been jealous of that when they were younger but as he grew older he began to see it as a curse. No one would ever know of Jon’s talent, except for the men of the watch.

“I could go to him and convince him to give us more time to get everything settled. He won’t like it but I could make him see that it would be better for his daughter.” She was unsure if she would actually be able to get Lord Frey to postpone the wedding, but she had to try.

Robb turned to her with a sad smile on his face. “I don’t know what to do mother.” His mother gathered him in her arms like she ha when he had been a child. “I had a purpose before, now I-“

“I know. I wanted your father to come back as well.” Her son had never come to her when he was sad as a child. He was almost never sad, such a happy child. She wished she could take away all of his doubts. “We will get through this.”

“The lone wolf may die but the pack will survive,” Robb muttered.

“What?” His mother pulled back and looked at him strangely.

“It’s something father would say.”

“I know, I just haven’t heard that in quite some time.” A small smile graced her lips and she pulled back further, stepping away from him. “I must leave soon, I’ll want to speak to the Frey’s as soon as possible.”

She turned to go but as she opened the tent flap, Robb stopped her, “Thank you mother.” She nodded and smiled softly at him before a hard grimace took over and she walked outside the tent to take on the Frey’s once again. This would not be an easy fight.

********************************************************

Back in the dungeon, Varys along with two guards came to unlock the chains that bound Ned Stark to the walls. It had been two days since Ned had given in to the proposition and Varys wanted to get Ned out of the city as soon as possible before the king or the queen changed their mind.

"Is it time?” Ned was nervous, he didn’t trust anyone anymore.

“Yes, you are leaving on the first ship north. It leaves in less than an hour.” The guards moved to unlock him and he rubbed his wrists to recirculate the blood to his hands. Varys handed him a flask of water and he poured a generous amount into his mouth. “You can change clothes on the ship, we must move now.” Varys walked off, followed by one of the guards and the other waited for Ned to move. Ned moved slowly, he hadn’t walked in almost a week, his feet were stinging as he shuffled along.

It took a while to reach the docks with Ned’s pace. Vary stopped in front of a small northern ship where a small group of soldiers were standing. “They will escort you to Castle Black. Clothes are in your cabin.”

Ned was almost sad to see Varys leave, he was the closet person Ned could count as a friend. “Thank you.”

“Be safe, Lord Stark.” Vary reached for his hand and pulled him in for a slightly uncomfortable half hug, but he whisper something in his ear, “There are still many who wish to kill you.” He pulled away and stepped back. “Farewell.”

Varys stood there are Ned was escorted up the gangplank and onto the ship. Ned was immediately pushed down into the interior of the ship and towards a small cabin. His cabin had a small port hole the size of his face and a small built in bunk on the wall. There were two beds made up, so he would probably have a roommate. The guard left him to change his clothes.

His clothes smelled musty and they were all black, the clothes of the nights watch. He changed quickly then went to the window. He tried to open it but it only opened a crack but he would almost smell the ocean air. It smelled heavenly after living in the dungeons for the past week.

He couldn’t believe he was on his way north, on his way home. Yes, he might not be going to Winterfell, but the north was his home. The south was too warm, he missed the cold. Well, where he was going was going to be even colder than what he was used to.

A man dressed in the red armor of the Lannisters came into the room. He handed Ned a tray with a cup of broth and a hard roll on it. Ned took the tray and sat down at the small desk in the cabin. The man didn’t automatically kill him, so he might make it to the wall alive.

The man in armor stepped towards the bed and pulled off his sword and laid it on bottom bed. “Don’t do anything stupid,” The man wasn’t faced towards him but Ned knew he was talking to him. “I will kill you if you try to escape. Don’t try.” The man pulled off his armor then. At the end was dressed in similar clothes as Ned. The man buckled his sword back on and then left the room, locking the door from the outside. Ned was locked into a cabin on the way North.

Ned left his meal on the desk and walked back towards the window. He could see Kings landing fading away into the distance. He thought of Sansa, his beautiful daughter, who he was leaving with the Lannisters in Kings Landing, without protection. He thought of Arya, whom no one has seen since he was put into chains. He hoped that she had gotten out of King’s Landing, hoped that she was headed north as well. He thought of Robb, his son, whom was probably mad at Ned for stopping his war, but Ned didn’t want to see his children hurt or worse killed. He then thought of Bran and Rickon, stuck in Winterfell, he will probably never see them again. He then thought of Catelyn, his beautiful wife who he loved very much, he hoped that she had gone north, that she would stop her war against the lannisters. He last thought of Jon, his blood but not his son, he would see him soon enough. He prayed that Jon would forgive him. Ned walked back over to his meal and ate quickly and then laid down on the top bunk. It was difficult to jump up there which was why he was probably being made to sleep there, he would have a harder time getting down, less of a chance to run. But where would he run now, he was on a ship surrounded by water. The next time he stepped on land, he would be so far north, he wouldn‘t have anywhere to run.

Ned closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, a deeper sleep than he had had since he came to the south. The last thoughts running through his mind was, _promise me Ned, promise me_.

******************************************************

Catelyn was pleased that her meeting with Walden Frey went well. The northern party had already broke down their tents and was packing up to head back north. She saw Robb talking with a few of his men and walked towards him. He finished up his conversation as soon as he saw her. He had a look of apprehension on his face.

“Well?”, Robb was worried, if he made the wrong decision to extend the betrothal he could ruin an alliance.   

“You have one year.” She said with an expressionless face.

He nodded.

“Are we ready to head north?” She looked around at all of the commotion. She would be happy to go back to Winterfell, she just wished that she had her daughters as well.

A armored man seated on a large horse came riding through camp, surrounded by Lannister soldiers. The man stopped in front of Robb and handed him a seal note. The seal was of a lion. 

The note was short and to the point, the man in front of him would be travelling with them to Winterfell, where he will look after every little thing that Robb did. The man was Kevan Lannister, the younger brother of Tywin. "We will head north in the morning." The Lannister man said nothing else, he didn't get down from his horse or say hello. His horse turned and walked towards the outskirts of the camp, his legion of men spreading throughout the camp, watching everything.

Robb looked at his mother, seeing a terrified look on her face, almost matching the sad look on his own. “We should be ready to leave soon. The men aren’t happy, they think I have betrayed them. I did this to free father and now he is free, we don’t need to fight anymore.” Robb looked unsure, despite his words. “We will go home, back to north. Everything will go back to normal.”

“Except everything has changed,” Catelyn whispered. It was true, even though they were going home, everything had changed. 

*******************************************************

Ned had been on the ship north for the past month. He was told that morning that they would arrive the next day. His first week on the ship he was locked in his cabin all day but eventually they allowed him to walk about the ship though he was followed by a Lannister soldier everywhere. Ned hadn’t spent much time on ships in his life, most of it spent on horses. This was the longest he had ever spent on a ship, the only other time being when he went to Dorne to save his sister and his return ship with his adopted son.

He was so close to the north, he could feel the change in the weather. He had felt it the moment they had left Kings Landing. In the beginning the soldiers refused to talk to him, refused to even acknowledge him. Even the man who guarded him at night didn’t talk to him, he just grunted whenever Ned said something to him. As the journey progressed one by one, the soldiers would speak to him. Mainly insults in the beginning but slowly they began to talk to him about other things.

With his containment on the ship, his leg had been allowed to heal and he had started to regain greater mobility. He would never be as he once was, but he hoped that one day he would be able to walk without a pronounced limp. The men had even begun sparring with him to help his mobility. The first time had fallen over with his first sharp step. It had taken almost 2 weeks of sparring every day for him to make it through an entire match without stumbling.

After traveling for a month together, the men had begun to trust him. The Starks were known throughout the seven kingdoms and beyond for being honorable people and honest to a fault. A few of the men had even started telling him of their time in the Lannister army. A few had said that they had only joined out of obligation to fight for Lannisport. They said that they liked Jamie as a commander but hated fighting for Tywin. After they said that they looked terrified that Tywin Lannister was going to appear on the ship and gut them. The men refused to speak to him for a few days after that and if they did, they spoke about the sea or the weather.

Ned knew that in armies, some of the men did join out of obligation, that they were ruled out of fear especially in the Lannister army. Ned had always respected Jamie as a warrior and as a military commander but never as a person. But Tywin on the other hand, he had never respected. He always felt that Tywin was more interested in the glory than in protecting his men. Tywin didn’t have the same regard for life as Ned did. Ned would never kill someone if there was a better option but Tywin was different.

Ned never like to kill, he had never been a fan of war. He had only joined in Robert’s Rebellion out of obligation until he had gotten word that Lyanna had been kidnapped. He know knew that she hadn’t been kidnapped, that she had willingly run away, but at the time he had been furious and had wanted revenge. When his father and brother had been murdered by the Mad King, he had fully committed himself and the entire north. For years when he and Robert had been fostered by Jon Arryn, Robert had talked about rebelling and protecting the realm from the reign of the Mad King. Ned had been hesitant to agree, he hadn’t wanted to go to war. Robert had always had dreams of being the conquering hero, of women throwing themselves at his feet and in his vision, Ned was on one side and his beloved Lyanna on the other. Robert had been infatuated with Lyanna ever since he had saw her, but he always was when he met a woman. Ned had doubted that Robert wouldn’t have been a good husband for her, but his love for his brother clouded his doubts for a time.

Standing on the deck of the ship facing north, he could see the small outline of the wall in the distance. Soon he would be there, he would be with his son. Ned knew that he would be fighting again, it’s what you did on the wall, but this time he was fighting for his king. His king who didn’t yet know he was a king. Jon would become king, Ned was sure of that now, he had to be. Joffery was a bastard and a horrific king and would terrorize the realm. They needed a good king, an honorable one and Ned felt that Jon was the answer to their prayers.

He knew that Jon would most likely be very angry with him for lying to him for his whole life but he had had no choice, Jon’s safety had been paramount to everything else. He had always regretted the day when he would have to tell Jon the truth, that’s probably why he had waited so long, he didn’t want to break the bubble around Jon’s innocence. He knew that Jon had had a harder life by being called a bastard than he would have had had Ned told everyone the truth but it always came down to Jon’s safety. He would know soon enough, Jon would soon know that he was the True King of the seven kingdoms and he would hate Ned for not telling him before he had taken his vows. There was nothing he could do after taking the oath of the Night’s Watch, but Ned hoped that someday there would be a chance for Jon to become the man he was destined to become.

****************************************************************

It had taken nearly a month for the war party to reach Winterfell. They had traveled hard to reach the north as soon as possible and afterwards they had slowed a bit. It had started to snow again as they reached Winterfell. The castle looked the same, if not for a bit quieter. More than half of the household had to be replaced and Robb was dreading taking over the lordship. If he did, then it was real, it was real that his father was never going to come home. His father could someday possibly ride down for a feast but he could never be Lord Stark again.

The Lannister men had ridden around Robb and Kevan Lannister behind him. Always on the watch, always ready to jump in and fight. 

When they reached Winterfell, a small number came out to greet them but it was the sight of Rickon with a sad smile on his face that made Robb pause. It was strange that Bran wasn’t down to greet them, but he could possibly have become sick, so Robb relaxed a hair. When Robb and his mother dismounted they wrapped Rickon in their arms. After a few moments Robb let go but his mother still clung to her youngest child. Robb went to greet the Maester but he too had a small sad smile on his face.

Robb felt a sinking feeling in in stomach like his brain knew something that his heart wouldn’t accept. He smiled despite the feeling, “Maester Luwin, how are you? How is Bran?” At Robb’s mention of Bran, Maester Luwin’s smile dropped off his face.

“My Lord, I am afraid I have bad news. Lord Bran had disappeared as has his direwolf.” Luwin looked uncomfortable with relaying the information. Robb was grateful that his mother was still fussing over Rickon and had yet to hear that her other son, her crippled son had mysteriously disappeared.

“How is that possible? Bran is crippled. How could he disappear without anyone noticing?” Robb was livid, how was it possible that Bran was gone? Bran had no use of his legs.

“Hodor is also missing.” He mentioned quietly.

“A giant, a crippled boy and a huge direwolf are missing.” To say it that way makes it seem as if it was impossible task to do. How could those three people leave without anyone seeing them.

“We have sent men out looking for them but that was a few days ago.” Robb brought his hand up to rub his beard, a nervous tick that he had recently adopted whenever he was frustrated. As he was still processing the information his mother walked over to them with one of her hands holding Rickon’s.

As Robb turned to his mother, Kevan walked up to the maester to inform him that he would be in charge from now on. Kevan's men again spread throughout Winterfell, a common occurrence, Robb had noticed. As soon as all of the arrangements had been discussed, Kevan walked through the doors and inter the castle, not waiting for Robb to show him around. The maester did not know what to do with the new information. He turned back to Robb, still shocked at the new leadership. 

“Where is Bran?” Robb turned to his mother with a sad look on his face, regretting what he would have to tell her.

“Mother, “he started off hesitantly. “Bran is not here.”

“What do you mean he is not here? He is a crippled boy. Where else would he be?” Her face transformed from upset, to sad, to furious within the span of 3 seconds. “How do you lose a crippled boy?”

“We have sent men after him.” Maester Luwin crumpled into himself at the force of her words. He had been maester at Winterfell for the past 20 years, he had delivered each of the Stark children, treated their wounds and their fevers and chills. He knew each of them and to tell Lady Catelyn that her crippled son was gone was heartbreaking. He felt as if he had failed her but he honestly didn’t know how it happened. One day Bran was there with Summer and Hodor and the next they were gone. They hadn’t even taken a horse; how could they have not been found by now?

“How many men?” Robb said frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair.

“We don’t know exactly which way he went so we sent groups of men in different directions.” Maester Luwin worried his lips and his hands, nervous that he would be punished for letting Bran out of his sights.

“Send out more men, I want him found.” Robb ground out and turned around, heading for the gate. He commanded the men at the gate, “Close the gates, we will not be leaving for some time.” As he watched the gate close he thought of everything that had happened since King Robert had come to the north. Everything that had happened had happened because of that ill-fated trip north.

***************************************************************

Ned reached Castle Black a month and a half after the day that he would have died instead of taking the black. It felt good to be back in the north, felt right. The men had rode with him along the wall after they had arrived at East Watch. He hadn’t been to Castle Black in years, not since the boys were young.

As they got closer and closer to the fortress, the Lannister men became less and less talkative. It was almost bittersweet, he had become almost friends with the men who accompanied him to Castle Black. He could see it in the distance, the run down castle on the side of the wall. When Ned had been a boy, more of the castles along the wall had been manned, only three were manned now.

As they reached the gates, they opened and the party rode through. Castle Black had even less men now. Ned had thought that Jon would be there to welcome him, a happy face to soothe the pain that Ned had felt the last year. Only a few men came out to see the new Nights watch man, none with the dark hair of the Starks nor the grey eyes of Ned’s sister.

A man came out and walked down the steps toward him, an older man. “Lord Eddard Stark, what a pleasant surprise.” He had a smirk on his face and Ned remembered who the man was, Allister Thorne, a bitter man who hated the Starks.

“Ser Allister.” Ned stepped off his horse as did the man who had been Ned’s watchdog the past month, Ser Roland Gold.

“Have you come to join the Night’s Watch?” Ser Allister had a nasty smile on his face, asking a question to which he already knew the answer to.

Ned had to say his answer out loud, accepting his shame. “Yes, I have.” Ned waited a few more minutes until he was sure Jon wasn’t going to come running out of the castle. “Where is my son, Ser Allister?”

“Your son?” Still expressing his nastiness, he pretended at not knowing what Ned was talking about.

“Yes, Jon.”

“Jon, Jon, Jon? There are so many named Jon, remind me of his last name.”

“Snow.” Gods, Ned wished he could shove Jon’s true parentage down his throat. Ser Allister might be the nastiest, bitterest man on the wall but Ned wouldn’t tell anyone the truth even to salvage his nephew’s honor.

“Right, Snow. The bastard.” Ned tightened his fist. Jon was no bastard, never had been. He was the true king and these men would swallow their tongues at the way they had treated him. “No, he’s not here. Went beyond the wall.”

“Beyond the wall?” Ned was astonished, in every circumstance Ned had imagined, he had never thought that Jon would not be here when he got here.

“Yes, he went on a scouting mission, he and about 200 brothers. Should be gone a good long while, better get comfortable.” Ser Allister walked away, back up the stairs while the other men turned away from Ned and continued on their way.

This was Ned’s new life, a life on the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know I keep changing things, but I just want to have the right flow.
> 
> This chapter was very hard to write. So I decided to change things a bit, instead of having Jamie as a prisoner, they never kidnapped him. This story will change the timelines a bit and events will either change or not happen. I am still working through my ideas.
> 
> I know it might be a little choppy, I just had my wisdom teeth out and am still loopy from the pain meds.


	3. The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned has a chat with Maester Aemon.

Ned had been at Castle Black for a week, still a large change from his previous life in Winterfell and latter in King’s Landing. The men hated him though he wasn’t sure if they actually hated him or they were influenced by Ser Allister.

He had begun training again, this time under the watchful eyes of Allister. He didn’t trust him, not one bit. His leg was still a bit tight and not easy to move around on, but it had gotten better since he was now able to walk even more.

In his free time he had been sentenced to do the heavy lifting in the form of cleaning. He had scrubbed all of the tables in the dining hall, cleaned and polished every sword in the armory and mucked out the horses stalls. All of these tasks were still better than being held in a cell in King’s Landing.

He still had not seen Jon, he had heard that he wouldn’t see him for quite some time. Whenever he asked any of the men about, some would immediately spit at the mention of his name in disgust. All of the younger men would get a nervous look on their faces and look towards Ser Allister before running from Ned. Something had happened between Jon and Ser Allister, something no one was willing to talk about.

The only person Ned could find that would willingly talk to him about Jon was Maester Aemon. Ned knew that Aemon was a Targaryen, a family member of Jon, someone he had no idea he was related to. Almost everyone had forgotten that a Targaryen was at the wall, he had been there so long and he was blind. Aemon was a good man, an intelligent man who had a great deal of honor. Ned respected him and he hoped that Jon did as well.

Ned had begun having small nightly conversations with Aemon, mostly about Jon. But he still hadn’t told Aemon the truth about Jon. Ned wanted to trust him, he really did but in these highly charged political climates, it was better to trust no one. Ned didn’t think that Aemon would tell anyone about Jon, he would have the only family member he had met in decades to be harmed. After each conversation with Aemon, he had been resisting less and less about telling him the truth. Finally after a month of living in Castle Black, Ned decided it was time. 

He went to the library that night to talk with Aemon. The winds had blown up strong and it was extremely cold outside, not that it wasn’t every night but that night it was different. It was almost as if the night wanted no one to overhear the conversation that Ned wanted to have with the maester.

“Lord Stark.” Aemon greeted him as he entered the library. Ned didn’t know how Aemon knew it was him, the man was blind and Ned hadn’t greeted him first. Maybe he had special powers to see without his eyes, or maybe he was taking a guess because Ned had come to talk to him most nights. The library was a medium sized room with books around the walls, it was smaller than the library at Winterfell but it still had the same comforting feel. 

“Maester Aemon, cold night out there?” Ned came in and shrugged off his cloak, putting it near the fire as he sat next to Aemon.

“Yes, but it will only get colder. What brings you here on a nigh such as tonight?” Aemon was sitting very near the fire, almost in it. He was a very old man, probably nearing a hundred. He was probably the oldest person in Westeros. Aemon didn’t look at him, he only stared into the fire, as if watching it. 

“I came to talk with you. I have been keeping something from you.”

“All men keep secrets Lord Stark.” Even though Ned was no longer a lord, Aemon still called him one.

“Yes, well. It is a very dangerous secret. A secret that could get many men killed.” Ned was nervous, could he really break his promise after all of these years?

“Ah… A secret that could mean either life or death. If you have such a powerful secret, why speak it?” 

“It is a secret that I have kept for over 17 years.” Ned knew that Aemon would connect his secret to the war but his next words stunned him.

“A secret about Jon.” Aemon didn’t speak as if it were a question, but a true statement. 

Ned was shocked, no one, not even his own wife had ever thought that his secret could have been about Jon. “How did you know?”

“It’s the blood. I haven’t felt the heat of the dragon since I came to the wall.” Aemon didn’t speak for a few minutes, letting his words sink into Ned. “He is Rhaegar’s son?” This time he did sound like a question, almost as if he wanted the conformation.

“Yes.” Ned didn’t want to confirm the truth but he knew that he had to. He said the word with his head down, as if trying to conceal the truth.

“Your sister Lyanna, his mother?” Again, Aemon was correct. After all this time and someone could see the truth, how was it that Jon was still alive? How could someone so far away from the actions, guess the truth so fast?

“Yes.”

“The war was a lie.” Aemon didn’t sound sad, he sounded resigned to the truth of the war. He had lost almost all of his family because of that war. Now the only other family he had was a girl on the other side of the world and a boy north of the wall that could die at any second. 

“Yes.” Ned waited a few minutes to see if Aemon would state another fact or ask another question. When he did neither, Ned spoke again, “Yes, Jon is Rhaegar and Lyanna’s son. He didn’t kidnap her, she went willingly with him. They were married.” 

“A very dangerous secret indeed.” Ned felt like a weight had come off his chest. He could finally talk to someone about the secret had had been guarding for the last 17 years.

“Yes.”

“Jon doesn’t know.” Aemon knew that Jon didn’t know the truth, it was obvious in the boy’s demeanor. The boy believed with all of his heart that Ned was his father, would deny anything else. 

“No.” 

“Do you plan on telling him?” It was such a simple question, one that had a simple answer and yet Ned almost couldn’t answer it.

“Yes, no… Yes. I have to tell him, he deserves to know.” Ned knew that Jon deserved to know the truth about his mother but the truth was so very dangerous. “The last time I saw him, I told him I would tell him about his mother.”

“Yes, but I assume you were going to come up with a fictionalized version of his mother, or were you going to tell him the truth about his real parents?” How could he know that? Ned was ashamed, that was exactly what he was going to do, but ever since he had found out the truth about Joffery, he knew that Jon had to know the truth. 

“Originally I wasn’t but now… Now I have to tell him. He’s the true king.” Jon was the one true king, the heir to the iron throne. 

“He’s the true king who has resigned himself to living on the wall for the rest of his life, with no wife or children. He has no way to claim the title, he is a man of the Night’s Watch.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have let him come up here but I didn’t know what else to do. Should I have sent him to Essos instead? My only thought the past 17 years has been for his safety and keeping my promise to his mother, my sister.” All Ned had wanted to do was keep his promise, keep his nephew safe from harm. Maybe he should have sent John to Essos, maybe to where the princess was, so they could be together. They could have conquered Westeros together.

“You might have sent him here to be safe but here is actually the least safe place.”

“What do you mean?” Ned was again shocked, would this man ever not stop shocking him?

“They are coming, soon I gather.” Aemon then turned away from the fire and sniffed the air as if he could smell the change. 

“Who?”

“The others.” The others, the white walkers. Stories meant to scare children, stories that had scared his own children.

“Those are just stories. There is nothing beyond that wall.” Ned wanted to believe in his words, to dismiss everything that Aemon said as fiction, but somehow he knew it wasn’t. 

“There is and we have seen them. The real enemy is out there, gathering strength and numbers. I just hope that our brothers survive. We are going to need all the men we can get.” Ned was stunned and shocked beyond speaking. The threat of the others had been a nightmare for the past 8 thousand years, a story told to children. If what Aemon was speaking was true then it wouldn’t matter who was on the throne because soon it would all be gone. 

Ned thought about Jon, north of the wall. He prayed that his son/nephew was safe and would remain safe. Jon was the one true king, even if he didn’t know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I know I had said that I was going to jump forward to Jon's return but I'm actually going to catch up with everything else. Things have changed in Westeros.


	4. Setting the Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with other characters. 3 different story lines, Jamie, Brienne and Robb. Their stories will continue later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed Theon's story a bit to better work with the plot. Instead of going to the Iron Islands Theon stayed at Winterfell to run things for a bit while Robb was getting married.

Jamie

In the war of the three kings battling for the iron throne, it was a dangerous and trying time. Jamie Lannister was a formidable opponent, he was one of the best swordsmen in the seven kingdoms. He was also known as the Kingslayer for killing the king he was sworn to protect, in order to protect King’s Landing from being burned. During the war, he was recruited as a military commander for his father’s army in order to protect his nephew/son’s seat as king.

In an attempt to kill the usurper king, Stannis, Jamie and a group of his best soldiers snuck onto the island of Dragonstone. There was 10 of them, all dressed in black to melt in with the dark stone of the castle. It was a very dangerous attempt and Jamie was risking his life.

They quietly snuck into the castle using grappling hooks to get inside the castle. It was a very foolish attempt and if there had still been dragons, they would defiantly have already been killed. They slunk down the hallways, stepping quietly as to not alert anyone. Suddenly behind the group came a shout and sword fighting broke out everywhere all at once. Though they were some of the best fighters in Westeros, they had been surprised and many of them fell within the first few minutes.

Jamie broke away from the group, attempting to finish the mission and kill Stannis Baratheon. Stannis, like Jamie was also an accomplished military commander and had had experience with stealth missions.

Though the whole idea had been Jamie’s and had been rejected by his father as being too dangerous, Jamie had been sure that this was the best option. Instead of an all-out battle that would have resulted in countless deaths, this was an attempt at the least amount of death.

As Jamie made his way up the stairs, searching for the usurper, he found his way into the planning chamber with a large map of Westeros laid out. Stannis was there, with his back towards Jamie. Jamie brought his hand up but he hesitated. He had once stabbed a man in the back, an honor less gesture but this time he couldn’t do it.

Stannis turned around and met Jamie eyes with a confident gaze, though he didn’t have a sword in his hand. Jamie didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t kill an unarmed man, not again. Behind Jamie a man silently crept into the room and wacked Jamie on the back of the head, knocking him out. Jamie fell onto the floor in a crumpled mess. In a dark corner of the room, a woman in a red dress stepped away.

“As I warned you my king. Now we have Jamie Lannister as a prisoner.” The woman stepped up to the back of Stannis and placed her hand on his shoulder. She was like a red flame, this red priestess, hot to the touch. Guards came into the room and took the wounded body away to the dungeons. “You doubted me, you doubted the lord of light and you doubted the one, true king.” The red woman looked pointedly towards the man who had knocked Jamie out, Ser Davos.

“My apologies my king. I only thought that it was a dangerous plan.” The older man nodded his head and followed behind the guards.

It was during the next morning as Jamie woke up with a pounding headache that he realized that he had failed. He was locked in chains in a dungeon of some sort. He tried to think back on the plan, to see where he had gone wrong. It was the memory of Stannis, not surprised at Jamie’s attack that brought him up short. How had he known?

Jamie stayed in the same position throughout the day and the day after and the day after that. Meals were brought to him twice a day and always left by a mute guard. He didn’t know if the guard was really mute but he had refused to speak or even acknowledge Jamie. The routine lasted for a month, never changing, never wavering.

It was after a month that he was brought to the battle room, to stand in front of Stannis only he was having trouble with the standing thing. Jamie fell on his knees as soon as he was let go, a hard fall that surely scraped them.

Stannis looked down on Jamie as a man looked down on a bug. “Your plan to assassinate me failed, Ser Jamie.” His voice sneered at the mention of his name.

A woman dressed in red stood behind him. “The lord of light sees all.” Jamie scoffed at the name, the lord of light was a hoax, a cult that was worshipped in small numbers in Westeros, being outlawed. “You doubt the lord, you shouldn’t he is more powerful than your or I.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe in a cult.”

“The lord of light is no cult, he is the only god, the one true god as King Stannis is the one true king.” She looked as if she could burst into flame, a flame to match her red hair and dress.

Stannis didn’t say a word, he only stared at Jamie for a good few minutes before motioning for him to be taken away.

The next time Jamie saw the outside of his cell, was weeks later. His legs and arms had begun to atrophy from disuse, as did his voice. The next time he was brought out, his once beautiful face had become gaunt. He was brought outside the castle, to an opening on the sand. Around him, men and women had gathered around flaming stacks of wood. The red woman was speaking, calling Stannis the Prince who was Promised.

“In the ancient books, it's written that a warrior will draw a burning sword from the fire. And that sword shall be Lightbringer. Stannis Baratheon, Warrior of Light, your sword awaits you. Lord, cast your light upon us! For the night is dark and full of terrors.” As she was speaking, Stannis walked up to one of the flaming bundles and wrenched out a sword that was on fire. He came back to the red woman and knelt at her feet. He spoke the next words, “For the night is dark and full of terror.”

Afterwards, Jamie was brought in front of Stannis, to pay for his crimes. “Ser Jamie, you stand accused of treason. You who committed treason against my brother, the late King Robert. You who cuckolded him with your own sister. How do you plead?”

“I plead not guilty.” At his words, the flames around him flew higher as if renouncing his lie.

“The flames speak against you, Ser Jamie.” The red woman spoke with a smile on her face.

Stannis held his hand with his sword above him. “The flames speak, you are guilty. For your crimes, I will only take a single piece.” At his words, the guards holding Jamie threw him on the ground next to a metal table, a table very much like an executioner’s block. His right hand, his sword fighting hand was set onto the block.

Stannis brought down his sword on Jamie’s hand, severing it from his body. Jamie screamed as his hand fell away in a shower of blood. A guard picked up the hand and gave it to Stannis, who held the hand up for all to see. “You have paid the price.” The hand was then placed in a small chest.

Jamie was dragged away then, back to his cell to mourn his lost hand. A maester came in to sew and wrap his hand. He was given milk of the poppy in order to sleep.

Jamie was left alone for months, he had stopped eating so food was forced down his throat and drink was poured on him. They would not let him die, not their prisoner.

He had been alone for months when a tall boy was brought down into one of the cells near him screaming for release. At one time Jamie might have felt sorry for the boy, but now he held nothing but hatred or the world.

The next morning, in the light of the day, Jamie saw the boy and it terrified him. He thought for sure it was a nightmare come alive, come to kill him and draw him to hell. It was the ghost of Robert Baratheon in his youth. The boy looked scared, like he didn’t know what he had done wrong. What was a boy looking like Robert Baratheon doing in the dungeons of Stannis?

He tried to speak to the boy, but the first words were gruff and sounded like Jamie had been eating nothing but saw dust for months. He coughed for a few minutes. “Who are you, boy?”

The boy or really the young man looked frightened. He had short dark hair and bright blue eyes. “Who am I, who are you?”

“I did ask first, boy.”

“A boy in the wrong place.” He looked defeated, like he was resigned to his fate.

“The wrong place? Sounds about right.” Jamie sat back against the wall and stared at the boy, the boy who could have passed for Robert’s son, no question.

“What are you doing down here, Ser Jamie Lnnister?” So the boy knew who he was, not surprising, almost everyone in Westeros knew who he was.

“Wrong place.” They sat in silence for long moments, sizing each other up. “You know my name, but what is yours?”

The boy didn’t speak for log moments as if terrified of speaking his true name. With a resigned sigh he spit it out, “Gendry Waters.” Ah, that made sense, a bastard. Robert had plenty of those. Though he had never seen a bastard look so much like his father, even Ned Stark’s bastard didn’t copy him exactly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Being almost killed by the bloody red witch.” Jamie wanted to laugh, the red witch who looked more like a seductress than a witch. “And you?”

“Failed assassination attempt.” Jamie couldn’t believe that he had actually told this boy the truth.

“Did they chop your hand off for that, or for something else?” The boy pointed towards his stump, rudely but the boy had almost been most likely killed so he was forgiven. “Do they always chop off hands because I quite like mine?”

“No, for other misfortunes, as long as you don’t fuck your sister.” Jamie tried to sound light hearted and go for a tasteless joke but bitterness flowed through.

“Well, I don’t have any of those, so I think I’m okay.” Jamie didn’t know why had had started laughing, it wasn’t even a joke. They laughed together for a few moments before the laughter became awkward. “Are they going to kill you?”

“No, I don’t think so, I’m just a lucky prisoner.”

“I think they are going to kill me.”

“Why? Failed to kill someone?” Again Jamie tried to make the boy laugh.

“No, just being the wrong fucking man’s bastard.” The boy, Gendry, had the taste of bitterness in his mouth.

“You know who your father is?” Jamie knew and he was sure the boy knew but he wanted to make sure.

The boy didn’t answer just nodded his head and they lapsed into silence once again. It was almost 10 minutes later when Gendry asked, “Did you know him? My father?”

“Yeah, I knew him, guarded him myself. You know you look just like him.” The boy looked doubtful, “It’s true, the spitting image.”

“She said my blood was powerful, king’s blood.” Jamie didn’t have to ask who she was, they both knew. Gendry’s shoulders shook at the horrible thought.

“The red witch? Let me guess, for the Lord of Light?” Gendry nodded and looked away. “Yeah.” Jamie let out a long sigh and they stopped talking.

Hours later, when the sun had set, the old man who had knocked Jamie out came to stand before the cell that Gendry was in. “How are you doing?”

Gendry mumbled, “Great.” What else could he say, piss poor fucking luck?

Jamie watched the exchange between the men with avid curiosity. The old man seemed regretful while Gendry looked bitter. He listened to the story of the old man, gaining insight into whoever would follow a man like Stannis Baratheon. After a while the man left and Gendry remained seated in his cell.

The man came back again the next night, quietly. He went straight to Gendry’s cell and unlocked the door. Gendry spoke first, “what are you doing?”

“You're leaving.” The man held a torch in one hand and a cloak in the other.

“Is this some kind of trick?” Jamie could tell that Gendry didn’t trust the man, which was smart.

“Yes, but not on you.” He threw the cloak at Gendry and then started to walk away. Gendry followed but stopped in front of Jamie’s cell. The old man stopped when he realized that Gendry wasn’t following him. He automatically said o to Gendry’s silent request. Jamie say them contemplating him outside his cell. He didn’t dare hope that he would be let out, he had given up on hope long ago.

“Please, I can’t just leave him here.” Gendry pleading for his life felt surreal to Jamie. “When they find out I’ve gone, they will kill him.” That seemed to convince the old man who took out another key and threw it to Gendry who caught it and unlocked Jamie’s door. Jamie couldn’t stand so Gendry had to help him and also to help him walk with them until they reached the beach.

The old man had a bag in old hand as he lead them to a small boat docked on the shore. “Aim for that star. Don't stop. There's bread and water. Go slow with it. If you finish it off, no matter how thirsty you get, don't drink seawater.” The old man mostly told them but Gendry was hopefully paying more attention than Jamie who was only trying to get his feet back under him. The old man threw the package in the boat and turned around to help Gendry get Jamie into the boat.

“I know not to drink seawater.” Gendry could be a right, smart, shit sometimes. Jamie could tell that the old man could see it too. They had pushed the boat off the shore and were holding in in the shallow water.

“Row for a full day and night and you'll reach Rook's Rest. You'll want to stop there. Don't. She'll find you.”

“Where should we go?”

“You must keep the coast on your left side until you reach King's Landing.”

“The gold cloaks are looking for me.” Gendry looked directly at Jamie as he said this but Jamie didn’t know what to say.

“They were looking for me for 20 years. Do they know your face? They’ll be more excited about his return than about you.” The old man nodded towards Jamie.

“No.”

Jamie breathed a little easier as the answer, maybe when they saw Jamie, Gendry could just melt away into the crowd.

“I'd worry more about the Red Woman.” Gendry got into the boat, but he got in the wrong way. “The other way. You ever been in a boat before?”

“No.” Jamie had been in a boat before but it was different now that he only had one hand.

“You know how to swim?” The old man directed the question to the both of them but only Gendry answered. Jamie merely nodded slightly but stopped when he looked at his hand. There was no way he would be able to swim with one hand.

“No.”

“Don't fall out. Go on.” Jamie smirked at the comment. Yes, a guarantee to do drowning is to not fall out of the boat. The old man pushed them out in the boat, and the sat there floating for a minute before Gendry grabbed the oars.

“Why are you doing this?” “Because it's right. And because I'm a slow learner. When you get to Flea Bottom, have a bowl of brown for me.” They rowed away from shore and the nice man who had helped them escape.

Now all they had to do was survive the trip back to king’s landing.

***************************************************************

Brienne

Brienne of Tarth was a strong woman, a tall woman. She had always wanted to be a knight but she was unable because she was born a woman. She was looked down upon and ridiculed for her size and desires. Even at a young age in her father’s home she was silently ridiculed and her father was shamed, but he let her continue on her path of desire.

She had loved her father, the only one who had ever believed in her strength. When he had died, she had grieved for days but he left her one thing to remember him by, an agreement with Renley Baratheon to become his squire. In Renley, she had found a friend, a man who understood her pain. He protected and accepted her as she was.

When Renley crowned himself king, he had firstly appointed her to his kings guard, a highly lucrative position and a position of great trust. She would give her life for his without a second thought.

Her entire life changed the moment Renley was murdered in front of her. They had been alone in his tent, her helping him rid himself of his armor, and yet he had been murdered. She had only turned around to set down his cloak when she had seen a black shadow sneak into the tent.

Before she could even move, the shadow who had looked very much like Renley’s brother Stannis, Renley had been stabbed. He died in her arms, coughing up blood.

When she saw him start to fall, she reached out to grab his body, sinking to the floor. He was dead before they hit the floor, her heart breaking at the contact. She screamed at the onslaught of grief for the man who had been like her beloved brother. In the midst of her grief she could hear screaming outside the tent, they would kill her if they saw her over Renley’s dead body.

Somehow she recovered herself and vowed to Renley’s dead body that she would exact her revenge on Stannis. She would take him to the grave even if it killed her. Standing from the floor she rushed over to the outer side of the tent, slashing a hole in it. Taking one last look at Renley’s dead body, she turned again and jumped out of the tent moments before guards rushed in.

She quietly ran through the camp, keeping to the shadows and out of sight. She didn’t know where she would go, she had no more family, no one to take her in. She ran throughout the night, running through streams whenever possible to throw whoever was following her off.

Stopping briefly to regroup and catch her breath, Brienne could hear dogs barking in the distance, she had to come up with a plan quickly. She contemplated directions to go for too long that when she had decided, she had nowhere to go but up. Quietly and quickly she shimmied up the nearest tree and hid within the branches before the small group of men came near. The men had two dogs with them who immediately started barking at the tree that she was hiding in. Near her was a large branch to another tree that looked sturdy enough to support her weight. Quickly she jumped onto the limb and crawled towards the heart of the tree, away from the barking dogs. Thankfully the men hadn’t been watching the branches as she had moved, they were too busy trying to control the dogs.

She hid within the branches for hours until the men grew bored and yanked the dogs away. Taking a deep breath to still her racing heart, she shimmied down the tree and looked towards the sky, identifying the star that would lead her north. She didn’t know why she had decided to go north, only that it felt right.

She traveled by night for weeks, hiding in the trees or abandoned barns during the day. She still had her armor on, it had been a gift from Renley when he had made her part of his kings’ guard. She tried to stay near streams for fresh water and for fish. She would either try to eat fish or small animals she was able to catch. There wasn’t much food, she had lost a lot of weight since starting on her journey, her armor that used to fit her perfectly, hung on her now.

Her hair had grown longer than she had ever had it, it now flopped over her head, getting in her eyes. It helped disguise her features, having longer hair, although the longer hair made it more difficult to distance herself from being a woman.

She had crossed into the northern lands a week days prior and she still had yet to see another living soul. Being on the run for weeks had made her almost miss human contact, but it was too dangerous for her to simply get a meal at a tavern.

She was sleeping in a tree one day, hidden from view when a group of men on horseback stopped in the small clearing two trees away. She woke immediately to the sound of sticks breaking but had no time to remove herself from the tree so she had to sit and wait. They all looked large but that could have been their cloaks of fur and they had dark hair but there was a distinctly northern air to them.

Five in total, they gathered sticks for a fire and sat about it to stay awhile. One of the men had caught a few rabbits and was roasting them on the fire and the smell wafting up to her made her stomach growl. She didn’t make a sound, lest she be discovered and killed or worse raped then killed. The men were hard to understand as they had thick northern accents and two of them had gotten drunk from their wineskins. She got the gist of what they were saying, that Stannis Baratheon had been defeated in battle but had lived.

She grew excited at the information that Stannis had failed but was upset to hear that he wasn’t dead, but then she recognized that it was perfect for her revenge. Over the weeks of her traveling and having little to do except think, she had come up with ways to exact her revenge and come up with way to exhibit the most amount of pain. The thoughts kept her moving when she grew too tired to walk and too hungry to move.

She had almost fallen asleep in her cramped position when her foot slipped from her exhaustion and caused a branch to snap off. It caught the attention of the man on watch, who immediately got up to explore. He walked around the tree she was in, staring at every branch, even the ones she hid behind. After a while he turned to walk away and go back to the fire but instead of sitting down she kept walking. Brienne lost sight of him for about 15 minutes until a sudden snap occurred less than 5 feet from her.

It startled her to the point that she had moved from her position and caught the gaze of the man. He had somehow snuck up on her without making a sound and had climbed the tree next to hers. His footsteps had been a quiet as a wolf’s. He had reddish hair and was very handsome, not that Brienne cared. “What are you doing up here?” He waited for her to speak but after a few minutes he spoke again, “might as well get down from there and warm yourself by the fire”.

Knowing that she had been caught, Brienne clumsily crawled down the tree, exhausted from no food and sore from her cramped muscles.

The man led the way to the fire. As he took a step towards it she saw a great sword hanging off his hip. He was armed but so was she, he looked fit and strong while she had not had a decent meal in weeks. The man sat down on a log by the fire and gestured towards another. The men that was traveling with were asleep in fur bags scattered around one end of the fire, they did not wake up at her intrusion.

The man looked at her curiously. He didn’t look angry or murderous or even unkind, just curious. “Who are you?”

“I would rather not say.” After not speaking for weeks, her voice had gone rough from disuse. She coughed before falling silent again, watching the man continue to stare at her.

“Are you hungry, we still have some meat?” He pointed to a stick angled of the heat to keep it from burning. She gazed at it longingly but instead of accepting it she shook her head no. “It’s no poisoned and from the rumbling in your stomach, I would say you were hungry.” He gave her a kind smile and a nod towards the food.

She hesitantly grabbed it a tore off a small piece of the meat and placed it in her mouth, it tasting like heaven to her starving body. She nodded her thanks and tore off a larger piece, this time shoving it in her mouth.

“You are obviously not from the north, based on what you are wearing and the fact that you look like you are about to freeze. You are wearing armor that is way too large for you. And you are most defiantly a woman. Let me guess, you are Brienne of Tarth?” The man did not look as if he was about to chop off her head for killing her king or about to abuse her, he just openly expressed his observations. “Let’s be on equal footing here, my name is Robb Stark, I am Lord of Winterfell.”

Brienne didn’t know what to say, the only man that she had ever been comfortable around had been Renley, though she spent her entire life in the company of men. There was something about this man that alluded to kindness, but kindness should be treated with suspicion. She had met men that had been kind at first but he turned into dogs after a few drinks, leading her to fight them off.

“I’m not going to hurt you, unless you try to kill me.” He smiled as if he made a joke.

“Why are you being kind to me?” She had to ask to sate her own curiosity.

“Forgive me my lady, but I was raised to respect women and to help in case of need. You looked as if you were in need.” He offered her his wineskin and she gratefully look a gulp, coughing at the rough taste, definitely not wine, tasted more like ale. “Do you wish to tell me why you were hiding in a tree?”

She nodded no and handed him back his wineskin full of ale.

“Let me guess, you are on the run because you have been accused of killing Renley Baratheon.” He said it like it was a question but she knew that it wasn’t. “I have heard that he was found inside his tent with a hole in his chest and a slashed tent wall marking his killer. Do you have a different explanation?”

“I didn’t kill him.” He nodded his acceptance but still didn’t believe her fully. “He was killed by a shadow.”

Robb didn’t laugh at her like she had imagined others doing, he simply waited for her to finish talking. “A shadow?”

Brienne nodded.

“A shadow of whom?” He didn’t dismiss the truth like it was false, he acted like he wanted to know all of the details.

“Stannis Baratheon.” She said it quietly for fear that this man would attack at hearing the name. He could possibly be an ally of Stannis.

“His brother? Why would his brother want to kill him?” Robb looked confused, like he couldn’t imagine a world in which siblings could hate each other enough to kill.

“They both believe that they are the rightful king.”

“That bloody throne, of course.” Robb looked disgusted at the thought that the allure of a throne could drive people to kill their own family, their own brother. “You were in the tent?”

Again she nodded. “I was helping him with his armor as a member of his kings guard and I had only turned away for a moment before a saw the shadow plunge a spear into his heart. I escaped the tent, knowing that they would kill me if they saw me. I vowed revenge on Stannis.” It was the longest she had spoken in a while and she was exhausted as she finished.

“And then you came north. Why north?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, it just felt right.” This was it, this was the moment he was going to either send her on her way or kill her. She braced herself for his answer.

He did neither. “Well, I can’t help you on the revenge but if you come further north with use, you can get warm food and different clothing at Winterfell.”

“What?” She was shocked at his answer, never did she think that anyone would help her, let alone a lord.

“I would not be a good lord, if I were to leave a lady outside in the cold in dirty clothes and a hungry stomach. We will leave at first light, best get some rest before the journey.” Brienne was beyond grateful to this man, a complete stranger, who was nicer than all of the men she had ever met combined except Renley of course.

She nodded her thanks and trudged over to a nearby tree trunk to sleep a few hours. Her last thought was that it was lucky that she had gone north instead of south.

She was awoken by sound of movement from the men nearby. She hastily jumped up and appeared strong and confident instead of weak. The men didn’t say much, they only asked a few questions which Robb skirted by and bid his men to saddle their horses. It would be a hard day’s ride to Winterfell, if they left now. She stood off to the side until all but one of the men had mounted. Robb stood by his horse looking at her, he held out his hand and gestured to her. She walked over to him, expecting him to explain that she would be walking behind the party and to warn her to keep up. He did neither. He simply climbed up on the horse and held his arm down for her to help her climb up behind him. Shocked she slowly reached up and he yanked her up behind him on the horse. Almost immediately the horse started moving and she grabbed onto his waist to keep steady. She hadn’t rode a horse in so long, she had forgotten the feeling, but after about an hour, it was like she had never left.

They men didn’t speak on their travels, instead they rode hard and stopped only briefly a few times to rest. It was after dark that they caught sight of a castle in the distance. Even rom far away, Brienne could tell it was a huge castle, a castle fit for a king.

Within an hour they rode through the gates, only a small party of men greeted them. Quickly the riding party hopped down and handed the horses over to the men to bed them down for the night. An older man standing at the back of the party approached them, he was wearing the chains of a maester. Robb reached out to him and softly spoke into his ear. She didn’t know what he said but she hoped that he hadn’t said to lock her up in the dungeon.

The old man left and Robb turned back to her with a soft smile on his face. “I spoke with the maester about acquiring a room for you, there will be a hot bath for you to clean up in and I will have fresh clothes and food sent up as well. You are a guest here in Winterfell and shall be treated as such.” Robb turned sideways from her and gestured with his hand into the heart of the castle as if motioning Brienne to follow him. She did follow him quietly, she had noticed that the men in the party had already left the courtyard, probably off to grab some food before sleeping. Brienne followed Robb up stairs and down hallways to a door that he stopped outside of. “The bath and provisions will be up shortly, I hope you have a good night.” Robb turned to walk away but she had to say thank you to her savior. She called out to him and he stopped and looked back at her. At her thanks he smiles, nodded and turned on his heel.

Brienne stepped into her guest room and was assaulted by the heat, a fire already burning in the fireplace. The room was sparsely furnished but she didn’t need much except a bed. There was a large bed, a chest with drawers and a small table with two chairs by the fire. After spending the past several weeks living in the woods, the room felt like a palace and the thought of sleeping in an actual bed overwhelmed her. Only the thought of getting the bed dirty did she stop from jumping on it.

She had barely be in the room for 5 minutes before there was a knock on the door. When she opened it she saw a young woman holding a tray and other woman behind her. They women filed into the room, one after the other. Each held something different, one held a tray with mouthwatering food, one held clothing, five held large buckets of steaming water and a man at the back came in with a small copper tub. She thanked all of them profusely and bid them a good night.

The tub beckoned to her but so did the food, she decided to combine the two, eating while she bathed. The food was a simply stew with bread and butter but it smelled like heaven. Shedding her armor and clothing she slipped into the steaming bath and purred at the delicious feeling. She sat in the hot water for several minutes as she wolfed down her food. After the hunger had been sated, she grabbed a small bar of soap that the women had left and a small piece of linen. She scrubbed her body and hair till it was red and raw, getting off all the grime and weeks’ worth of tension. Finally when she felt clean did she raise herself out of the bath and simply stand in front of the fire naked, to dry herself in its heat. It felt heavenly to be finally warm. In the bundle of clothing she found a long nightgown and donned it before finally sinking into the bed covered in furs. Her head had barely hit the pillow when she was out, falling into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, which was early afternoon, Brienne awoke to swords clashing outside her window. For a moment she was confused about her surrounds until remembering the past few days. On the table next to the still smoking fire was a tray with a large piece of bread, cheese and some fruit. Gratefully eating her fill, she ate as she looked out the window down into the courtyard where men were fighting. In the bundle of clothes, she found set of small clothes and a pair of breeches and a tunic. She silently thanked whoever gave her the clothes as they did not include a dress. Brienne hadn’t worn a dress in over a decade. She quickly donned her new clothes and stood looking at her armor deciding on whether she should wear it as well. She had spent so long with it on, that she felt it was her second skin, it would feel right if she wasn’t wearing it. Deciding yes, she quickly donned her armor, strapping on her sword and walking out the door.

Outside her door stood a man in guard uniform. He turned to her when she opened her door. “Lady Brienne?” At her nod, he continued speaking. “Lord Stark asked me to escort you to him as soon as you were up.” He waited for her conformation of a simple nod, then quickly turned and walked down the hallway. Brienne followed behind, quickly losing track of where they were. Less than 5 minutes later, Brienne broke you into the dim sunshine where men and boys of many ages and sizes were sparing or learning to shoot. Robb stood off to the side, silently observing his men, the same old man standing behind him, whispering in his ear.

At her entrance into the courtyard, the men closest to her stopped and stared at her. She was used to the stares and the whispers, they had happened everywhere she went. Today was no different but there was something different in the stares of these men, almost respect of both her height and the sword at her side. Robb noticed that some of his soldiers had stopped training and turned towards the disturbance, smiling when he saw her. “Have I called for a break men, continue training.” He barked at his men.

He walked towards her, stopping when he reached a fair distance. “Lady Brienne, how was your rest? Well, I hope, after living in the wild for weeks.” He smiled at her again.

“It was my lord, best sleep I have had in many months. Thank you.” She bowed to him in a knightly way as a sign of respect.

“Good, good.” Robb looked away, watching his men continue training, while some of them kept one of their eyes trained on Brienne. It was many minutes before he spoke again. “Lady Brienne, if I might ask again, why did you come north? Why not go to Essos?”

“Essos has no honor, I was taught to be honorable as are the Starks if I might say.” He chuckled at her answer, silently agreeing with her. A man who went to Essos was not honorable, he was a sell sword, a man who sold his sword for money. “I guess, it I had to decide on a reason, it might be to make it to the Wall.”

“The wall? The night’s watch? You do know that they don’t take women. It is actually very dangerous for women traveling alone near the wall. Of course I can only vouch for two of the men there for having great honor but most do not.” He had a grimacing look on his face, like speaking of the night’s watch brought up bad memories. Brienne had forgotten that his own father was forced to take the black after being condemned a traitor by the king. It was known throughout the seven kingdoms that Ned Stark was the most honorable men and any son of his had honor in his blood.

“I can protect myself.” Brienne stood proud at her reply. She had been taking care of herself since before she could remember.

“Really? Not just a fancy walking stick.” He pointed towards her sword and at her horrified expression, he laughed. “Joking. I had heard that you bested Ser Loras Tyrell. Quite an achievement I am told.”

She only nodded, she didn’t need to boast of her skill. Only a man insecure in his skills boasted.

“Care to put the rumors to rest and show us your skill?” Robb asked respectfully, he looked at her with honor, like he understood and respected her ability and was not disgusted by her height or build. He reminded her of Renley and the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. She nodded, looking around for a man to challenge her. The guard who brought her down to the courtyard ran off and returned less than a minute later with a large sword in his hands, he handed it to Robb.

Robb stepped away, walking to the center of the courtyard. The men hurried off to circles around Robb in a large circle. Robb looked at her expectantly. Brienne was confused, she had never seen the lord of a house actually challenge someone. Brienne shook herself out her confusion and awe and stepped into the center. Robb nodded towards her, acknowledging her to strike first. She took out her sword, crouching into her fighting stance.

She swung first and Robb quickly parried it, slinking back. He struck next, her quickly spinning to the right. They had started off slow, eventually becoming faster, as they circled around each other, swinging and sparring for a long time. They were pretty evenly matched, though Brienne had no idea if he was holding back. She hoped he wasn’t, but she was also not at her full strength, if given a few weeks to regain her strength and weight, she could have easily out maneuvered him at this level, long ago.

They were both breathing heavily, sweat running down their faces. Wanting to end the match and win, Brienne took a step toward, struck and then when Robb tried to swing back she quickly stepped backwards and towards the left. Robb lost his footing and with his sword thrust in front of him, she swung down and disarmed him. She swung her sword up to his throat and he smiled, officially calling a truce. Brienne stepped back and resheathed her sword. “Excellent, you are almost as good as Jon.” Brienne almost felt deflated and looked around at the men’s faces around them for humiliation but couldn’t find it in any of their faces. In fact at the mention of this man Jon, the men all looked impressed, like this man was a great warrior. “Do not look so deflated, Jon was the best swordsman in the North.”

“Jon?” She didn’t know of any great swords men named Jon from the North.

“My brother, Jon Snow, he is in the Night’s Watch.” Robb had a proud but sad look on his face. He must miss his brother and according to him, his best fighter.

She gave a small smile and nodded. To be compared to one to the best fighters in the north, felt like a compliment in itself.

“Well, I am impressed and am certainly glad that we found you and not one of the houses from the south. We could use a fighter like you.” There was a bit of commotion at the entrance into the hall, a commotion that stopped whatever else Robb was going to say. Brienne and Robb looked towards it, seeing a tall woman with auburn hair and a long navy cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Robb stepped away and towards the woman. Brienne observed the interaction, automatically assuming that the woman was Lady Stark, Robb’s mother. Standing next to each other, mother and son looked very much alike.

Robb looked back towards Brienne and motioned for her to come forward. The men around the courtyard dispersed, back to their training now that the excitement had ended. She walked over to the pair, automatically towering over the both of them. “Lady Brienne, this is my mother, Lady Catelyn Stark.”

“Lady Brienne.” Lady Stark slightly nodded her head towards Brienne and Brienne nodded back. “You are quite an impressive fighter, Lady Brienne.”

“Thank you my lady.”

“It seems that your armor is a bit large for you, shall we get you new armor?” Lady Stark asked with a small smile.

“That will not be necessary my lady, I just need to recover from my malnourishment. This armor used to feel like a second skin.” Brienne nodded at the suggestion but she could never give up her beloved armor, the armor Renley had gifted her.

Lady Stark merely nodded again. “In that case we will have to feed you well,” she said with a smile. To others that might have been an insult but to Brienne, it felt like Lady Stark cared about her health. Brienne had never met so many nice people in such a short span of time in the same area. The Starks were truly good and honest people. With a nod at her son and at Brienne, Lady Stark said, “Well, I will leave you all to your training.” She turned on her heel and get back inside the castle.

“How about we go again and you show me that move you did.” They both walked back to the center, but this time no one was watching them as they were all training on their own. Smirking at each other they raised their swords, ready to fight.

Brienne had been in the north for more than a month, training and recovering when she was asked to see Lady Stark. Brienne had gotten along with everyone, they had all accepted her skill and size. Now they all took turns waiting to train with her. She had bested them all. For the first time in her life she was accepted by a large number of people, it felt wonderful. She walked to Lady Stark’s solar and knocked. After waiting a few moments a soft ‘come in’ came through the door. Brienne opened the door, stepped through and closed it once again.

Now she had been living in Winterfell for quite some time and had grown to know how warm some of the rooms could get. She had been told that it was the hot spring waters that ran through the walls, keeping the chill out of the air. The hottest water must run through Lady Starks room as they were the warmest Brienne had ever been in. “You wished to see me, my lady.”

Lady Stark looked up from a note she was writing, “yes, thank you for joining me.” She put down her quill and looked up at Brienne. “I have a proposition for you Lady Brienne.”

Brienne was confused, a proposition? The only words she had ever heard associated with proposition was the word marriage. Brienne would never get married, she had never wanted to be married. “A proposition, my lady?”

“Yes, I know that you have grown to like it here but I am afraid that I must ask you to leave.” Brienne was crushed, she didn’t want to leave. She had never felt more at home, more like herself. “I can see that you respect Robb, even trust him. I need you to put your trust in me now. I would like you to go to King’s Landing.”

“King’s Landing, why?” Brienne never wanted to go south again, but from Lady Stark’s words, it didn’t sound as if she was being sent away but being sent on a mission.

“Yes think of it as a mission. I would like you to find my daughters and bring them back home. You are the only one that I can trust with this. You know the south, you have lived there and you are a woman. No one would suspect a woman to be scheming to get Sansa and Arya out of that dreadful, horrible place.” Lady stark sounds as if she was begging Brienne, pleading with her eyes to take her mission.

“Why me, why not send a northern woman?”

“I cannot risk sending a northerner, they do not know the ways of the south and if they were caught, the north would be punished. I believe that you are the only one that I can trust my daughter’s lives with. Please say yes.” Lady Stark’s blue eyes were filled with tears but her voice spoke with power. Brienne could feel her devotion and her sadness. Brienne had never known that kind of love, the love that a mother carries for her child.

Before she knew what she was doing, Brienne knelt down in front of Lady Stark, taking out her sword and placing the tip in front of her on the ground.

“I, Lady Brienne of Tarth, do solemnly swear an oath to the House Stark, to always be a faithful servant and protector of the Stark blood. I will ride south to King’s Landing, find the daughters of Winterfell and return them to where they belong. Do accept my pledge?” Brienne looked up at Lady Stark’s face, seeing hope and satisfaction ride across her cheeks. She looked relieved and Brienne felt relief in return.

“I, Lady Catelyn Stark, accept your oath in the name of house Stark.” Lady Stark smiled and offered Brienne a goblet from her table. They clinked glasses and drank, finishing the pledge with a celebratory drink. After finishing her drink and discussing the details with Lady Stark, Brienne headed back to her room.

Sitting in front of her fire, later that night, she contemplated her journey back south. This time she would be riding on a horse, wearing the Stark colors. She had never thought that she would ever go south but here she was, swearing an oath to do just that. She knew that Lady Stark loved her children fiercely and if it hadn’t been for Robb, she probably would have died out in the North during winter. She owed the Starks her life, so she would give it to help bring them all back together.

In the morning, Brienne would travel south, to bring back the daughters of winter.

**********************************************************************************

Robb It had been almost a year since Robb had left the battle field and returned home to deal with the consequences. Though it had taken a great deal of time, his men were beginning to trust him once again. They still laughed behind his back about the lord pretender. He had lost a lot of respect by simply conceding the war, an act that saved thousands of lives and yet they disrespected him. Oh, not to his face but once he turned his back and walked away he could faintly hear them.

He didn’t care about the whispers or stares, he only wished for the safety of his family. It had been years since they had all been in the same place, his father and mother, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Now his father and brother were men of the watch, his sisters were hostages in King’s Landing, and Bran was still missing. He had sent out group after group searching for his brother, even gone searching himself. He had almost give up hope, there had been no sign or note in over a year.

Here he was on his way to get married, accompanied by his mother, his household guard and a few of his banner men and he had never felt so sad. He didn’t want to get married, not when there was still so much to do. At least he didn’t have to do it all himself. His mother had asked Lady Brienne to save her daughters and she had readily agreed. They had all traveled together to the twins, leaving Brienne to head still farther south.

Robb was nervous, he always knew that he would have to marry but he didn’t think that it would have to be so soon. He was only here because the day before he conceded the war, his mother made a pact with the Frey’s so his army could get across the bridge. He felt like he had been tricked into getting married, resenting his circumstances. If only he could be like Jon and not have to get married, but at the thought Robb felt terrible. Jon’s status as a bastard prevented him from making a good match and Jon’s own personal beliefs. Robb knew that had Jon not been a bastard, he would have gladly married.

When they had arrived at the Twins, they were immediately escorted to the great hall, where the large family of Walden Frey congregated. There were many of them, men and women of all ages stared at him as they entered, judging him. They all looked grim and ugly, with pinched looks on their faces. Robb took a deep breath and plastered a small smile on his face. His mother already had one on hers.

Lord Frey sat in the center, in a large chair with a young girl sitting on the arm. He spread out his arms as if welcoming them with open arms. “Welcome to the Twins, Lord and Lardy Stark. You are here for a wedding, if I might say.” His face transformed into a sick smile and he chuckled at his own joke.

“Yes, thank you Lord Frey.” Lady Stark took to speaking for Robb, “If I might present my son, Lord Robb Stark.” Robb stepped forward and bowed his head a fraction.

“Yes, the lord Stark. You were here a while back to fight a war, were you not?”

Robb spoke this time, not appreciating his loss being thrown into his face. “Yes, Lord Frey, but unfortunately circumstances prevented me from continuing.”

“Circumstances? Like your father being called traitor and sent to the wall.” His mother flinched at the cold reminder. She absolutely hated that she wasn’t able to be with his husband and no one in the north mentioned it.

“Yes.” Robb bit off sharply, he did not want to continue this line of questioning. “And now you are here for your wedding?” Robb didn’t speak this time, he only nodded. “Good, good, we will have a wedding.” Lord Frey announced to the hall. “Tonight, we shall feast.”

Later that night as Robb sat next to his mother, on one side of Lord Frey as his newest wife and daughter sat on the other. The daughter chosen for Robb was named Roslyn and she was very pretty, very different than what Rob had been expecting. She didn’t speak much, she only nodded when someone talked to her, or hid her face in her wine glass. Robb didn’t have much time to speak with her when they had been introduced and now they were sitting at opposite ends of the table. She had blonde hair, a small nose, wide lips and dark grey eyes. Robb had been pleasantly surprised when he had seen her and secretly glad that she was pretty. At least she would be nice to look at as they got to know one and other during their marriage.

The feast lasted hours but Robb had lost track of it all, too stuck up in his thoughts. Men kept trying to speak with him but after a few words, they all left looking disappointed. His own men were quiet as well, a complete contrast to the Frey men who were celebrating like it was their own marriage to celebrate. Robb ate and drank very little, leaving when he cold stomach no more.

Back in his room, he stood in front of the fire as his wolf, Grey Wind lounged in front. Grey Wind had accompanied him everywhere, his grey shadow that scared children and grown men alike. Robb’s thoughts circled around each other, unable to grasp a single one, leaving him to stare out the window like a statue. He stood like that for some time, before his legs tired and he laid down on the bed. Grey Wind climbed up on the bed with him, giving him silent comfort in his time of need.

He slept fitfully, violent dreams waking him every few hours but as soon as he woke, he forgot the dream that made him wake. After the third dream he sat up in the bed, refusing to fall back asleep. Outside the window, he sun had started to turn grey, turning night into day. He stayed in bed till the sun was up and he could hear people moving around him.

The day of his wedding, Robb Stark walked alone along the shores of the river, followed by his guards some 10 paces behind him. Grey Wind had also accompanied him but had taken off to hunt. Robb had been a happy child or as happy as one could be. He was outgoing and charming but recently he had felt a great weight settle into his heart. He didn’t know why or when it happened as it had happened slowly. These days, his smile grew fainter and fainter. With everything that had happened in the past year, he couldn’t blame his attitude on anything else. Before Robb had left Theon to look after Rickon and Winterfell, he had teased Robb that he was becoming more like Jon. Robb was going to miss Theon when he went back to the Iron Islands after Robb got back to Winterfell with his new wife. Always brooding. But no one could ever take Jon’s place as the most broody.

After a while they heading back to the castle so Robb could change for his wedding. His mother had stitched him a new tunic and breeches. His breeches were a dark leather while his tunic was a light grey. His boiled leather vest fit snugly over the tunic and around his shoulders was a black cloak, held together but clasp of two dire wolf heads. He looked dark and mysterious and with Grey Wind standing next to him, like an old of winter.

When the time was right, Robb followed his mother down to the great hall where the wedding would take place. Robb strode down the center aisle, stopping at the front. He held a black cloak that matched his own except this one had a dire wolf stitched into the fabric instead of a dire wolf clasp. He turned around and saw everyone looking at him. On his left stood his mother and his banner men, behind them stood his soldiers. On the left stood various members of house Frey.

His future wife was accompanied by her father as they too strode down the aisle and stopped in front of Robb. He clasped his hand with Roslyn’s, turning them to face the septon who would perform the ceremony.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Robb shook out the cloak and wrapped it around Roslyn’s shoulders. Standing next to each other, they brought their hands up and the septon began wrapping a piece of linen around them. “In the light of the seventh I hereby seal these two souls binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words, father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger, I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.” They kissed briefly before parting. Robb was married now, but the feeling in his heart grew heavier like it knew that something was going to happen.

That night at the wedding feast Robb sat next to his bride on the left of Lord Frey. They only spoke in short sentences before lapsing into silence once again. It was brutal, the two of them were surrounded by loud, drunk men, while they waited for the bedding ceremony. The music playing in the hall was loud, so loud that it drowned out half what was being shouted.

Finally when the music died down a bit, the hall quieted. Robb and Roslyn were carried out of the hall towards his chambers. Faintly he could hear the changing of cords from the great hall. Faint strains of the Rains of Castamere began playing. At first Robb did not put together the music and what happened next but it soon became apparent. They were up in the hallways near Robbs room when the men carrying Robb stopped but the men carrying Roslyn continued down the hallway and into a room and the door closed. Robb was dropped onto his feet hard and his knees buckled underneath him. There were four men around him all dressed in black.

“Ah, pretty, little, northern lord, down on your knees. You are going to die like one of your dogs.” The man standing in front of him sneered at him. He raised his sword in hand and Robb saw no way out of his doom. He will die here in the hallway of the Twin’s castle. Robb accepted his death, the moment he had been expecting since his father had been captured. His sword started to come down but out of the shadows a figure emerged, a wolf. The wolf grabbed onto the man’s hand and bit it off, blood spraying everywhere. Behind him, Robb felt a sword enter his back, but it did not piece his heart or lungs. Grey Wind quickly went around to the other men, killing them as Robb lost blood and tried to stand.

He had to get to his mother, he had to warn her. He only hoped that she wasn’t dead already. Robb grabbed on the men’s swords in one hand and held onto his dire wolf with his other. Grey Wind and Robb made it down the stairs, slowly but surely. Around them lay dead bodies and blood soaked the floor. Out of the great hall flooded a group of men and Robb dropped his hold on Grey Wind and stood against the men. They fought together but through a gap in the men he could see a figure lying on the ground in the great hall, a figure with auburn hair like his mother. He wanted to run to her but a group of men came at him. He swung his sword left and right, sweeping around trying to get as many as he could. The doors to the outside opened and another group came in. More than half went for Grey Wind but the rest came for Robb.

Robb was slowly giving up hope. He couldn’t breathe anymore, he had lost too much blood. He had been cut and swiped at. He felt blood run own his face and down his arms where it mixed with sweat and screwed with his grip on his sword. Robb gain accepted that he was going to die. He heard a sharp growl and then a loud whine, and he saw Grey Wind go down. His heart breaking at the sight.

Robb closed his eyes and dropped his sword, accepting death but the death blow never came. Instead a pair of large hand grabbed him and threw him over a horse. He dropped his sword and blackout from the pain.

Before he blacked out he swore he saw Jon’s face but then blackness came over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it has been a while since I have updated and I have gotten many comments asking me to update. This chapter was very long and it took me awhile. I also had to write ten pages for a paper at school and I hade a couple exams. Sorry for the delay.
> 
>  
> 
> We will see Jon in the next chapter, yay!


	5. Jon's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has come back from living with the wildlings, this is just my version of the extension of the scene.

It had been almost a year since Jon had left to go beyond the wall. Ned hadn’t seen his nephew is two years. The surviving man from beyond the wall had already come back but still Ned was convinced that Jon was alive, he had to be.

Ned was on duty, watching the gate for riders when far away he saw a dark spec. It was a horse and possibly a rider on top but the rider looked bent over. As the rider got closer he could see a mound of fur on top, brown not black. The other men had told him that full length brown fur was a sign of wildlings. If one wildling was approaching, was there a group behind him, a group ready to attack. Ned had to be on alert. He watched the horse come closer, the other man on guard with him shouted that there was a rider approaching. 

As the rider came closer, Ned could see that he was hurt, three arrows sticking out of him. The other guard called for the rider to halt as he came closer but as he reached the gate, he fell off the horse. The body had dark hair, almost raven black and Ned got a feeling that the rider was Jon. Believing in his delusion, he hurried down step to see if the body was truly Jon.

He wanted to believe it so bad but what was Jon doing dressed as a wildling? Why was he coming from the king’s road instead of from beyond the road? How had he gotten passed the wall? These questions ran through his mind as the gate opened and he was allowed past. As the men came closer to the body, the horse the rider had been on turned and ran away. Up on the walkway above the gate, men had gathered with bows, anticipating an attack. Ned had his sword drawn as he approached the body. 

Now that he was closer he could see that it was in fact Jon. He had deep scratches around his eyes and three arrows sticking out of his body but it was Jon. “Jon?” He bent down to touch his son, as if to reassure himself that he was in fact right in front of him.

Ned was pushed out of the way, two other guards grabbing Jon under his arms and started to drag him into the courtyard as Ned followed. The brothers gathered in the courtyard around the body as Sam and Pyp came running with a support. The men laid him down on his front in the center as the gates were closed.

Ned knelt down next to the body of his nephew, and turned him over onto his back. He had thought that maybe Jon was dead, but as he turned him over Jon gave a faint grunt of pain from one of the arrows in his back. He was alive and he was back. Ned breathed a little easier but Jon was still injured. Jon’s eyes were open but unseeing. Ned was joined by Sam and Pyp, as they hovered over Jon.

“Jon! Jon! Jon, it's us.” Sam exclaimed, wanting to assure Jon that he was surrounded y friends and now foes. Jon didn’t say anything as that. 

“I don't think he can see us.” Ned could see that Pyp was worried that Jon was possibly blind from the deep scratches around his eyes that look like they might have been inflicted by a bird. 

“Pyp? Sam?” Jon spoke but his voice was different, weaker and parched like he hadn’t had a drink of water is some time. Jon looked around, his eyes fell on his father, unbelieving that he was actually here. “Father.” Jon had never called his father, father before, always Lord Stark. 

“Hush, now. You're home. Carry him inside.” Men moved to pick him up, Ned moving to grab one of his shoulders. “Gently.” The men moved the body up the stairs and into Jon’s old chambers. The room hadn’t been used in over a year but it was less dusty than it should have been. Ned had sometimes come into the room, sat on the bed, and lit a fire in the fireplace, all in an effort to feel closer to his son. He had tried to work out what he would say whenever he saw his nephew again. 

Jon was laid on his bed and the men retreated from the room, save Ned and Sam. Sam told Pyp to go get Maester Aemon. Jon had groaned when the men had laid him on his bed with his leg hanging off the bed, they laid him on his front, as his back had two arrows lodged in it. Ned traced the arrows around Jon’s back with his fingers, working out in his mind how they would get them out with the least amount of damage. Maester Aemon came into the room several minutes later, his eyes meeting Ned’s over Jon’s body. 

“We will need to cut off the furs to determine where the arrows have pierced. Ned snapped off the feathers on the arrow, as close to the body as possible in order to lift Jon’s clothes off easier. Ned moved to cut the fur cape with his sword, cutting away the fabric down his spine with only a grunt from Jon. Once the furs were cut down the back Ned grabbed one side and Sam grabbed the other, slowly working the clothes away from Jon’s body. The clothes had dried to Jon’s body with the dried blood, in some areas they had to wet the fabric with some clean water to pull it away. When the clothes were pulled away from the arrow in his back, they were able to pull the furs off his arms throw them to the side. The trousers were easier, they only had to cut down to the arrow in his thigh and then slide off his pants. When he was naked they threw a fur over his back but away from his wounds. 

Sam went to grab the maester’s supplies as maester Aemon gently examined the wounds around the arrows. Ned watched Jon’s face as it screwed up in pain at the prodding of his injuries, but he didn’t make a sound. When the maester was done, Jon opened his eyes and they caught Ned’s, a smile tried to grace his face but his pain masked it. “Father? You really are here?”

“Yes, I joined the black. I am glad to see you alive and almost well.” Ned knelt next to Jon and grabbed his hand. “Although I had hoped to see you without a few more scars.” Ned tried to make a joke and it brought a half smile to Jon’s face. 

“You and me both, but they are better than what I would’ve received had I stayed.” Jon stared back into Ned’s eyes, but all Ned saw was his sister’s pleading eyes on her deathbed, full of pain. It was an image he thought he would never have to see it again, except or his dream but to see it on his son’s face, his face of pain, it brought tears to Ned’s eyes. The claw marks around his eyes were red and bloody, but the blood had dried. 

“Where have you been? How did you get on this side of the wall without coming through the gate? What happened to you?” So many questions came to Ned’s mind but before Jon could answer them or attempt to answer them, Sam came back holding a large bag and a cauldron full of water. He set the bag on the table near the bed and then turned to place the cauldron over the fire. 

Sam then came back to the bag and started taking out supplies. He took out a stack of fresh linen, some rolls of linen, a small bottle of white liquid, a pair of scissors, a needle and a spool of thread. They decided to knock Jon out before taking out the arrows so they gave him some milk of the poppy and he fell into a deep sleep. 

First Sam cleaned around the arrow on his thigh with some heated water. As maester Aemon narrated what they were supposed to do, Ned held onto Jon as Sam grasped the arrow imbedded in Jon’s right thigh. On the count of three Sam took a deep breath and pulled on the arrow. Jon only twitched his thigh and Ned quickly took off one of his arms and with a handful of linen, pressed it to the wound. Blood welled up as they had disturbed the congealed blood. Ned tightly clasped his hand over the wound putting pressure on it while Sam threaded a needle to sew it up. 

After the blood flow had lessened Ned took off his hand and Sam sewed the small hole up with a few stitches. When Sam was done he cleaned the stitched wound again gently with water. After he was done he placed some linen over the wound and wrapped a rolled long strip of the wound, tightly tying it off. They repeated the process on the two other arrow wounds. When they were done, they left Jon to get some rest. 

Ned continued to sit with Jon while maester Aemon and Sam left. Jon was sit laying on his front, his face relaxed in his sleep. It was strange to not see Ghost with Jon, as the last time Ned had seen Jon. They had been inseparable at Winterfell. Sam said that after Jon had gone missing beyond the wall, Ghost had stayed with the group but he had somehow lost him after Lord Commander Mormont had been killed at the Craster’s place. 

Ned pushed some hair away that had fallen into Jon’s face. His face was so like his mothers, except his nose, that had been his fathers. Ned had never been alone like this with Jon, not since Lyanna had placed Jon in his arms. He had not let go of the newborn until they had reached King’s Landing. 

Ned had promised that he would always protect Jon. He didn’t think that Lyanna would be okay with letting her son go beyond the wall and they almost killed by wildling arrows. He didn’t think that Lyanna would approve of him being in the Night’s watch either but what was Ned supposed to say? He had let her down by not keeping Jon safe but he was not going to make the same mistake twice, he was going to do his upmost best to protect Jon and if possible, get him back his birthright. 

*****************************

When Jon woke up the next morning, he had blinding pain in his back and leg. He tried to turn over onto his back but grunted in pain at the effort. His father, who had been sleeping in the chair next to his bed, woke up at the sound, “Jon? Jon, don’t move, I will go get maester Aemon.” His father quickly left the room. 

He was back a few minutes later along with Sam and maester Aemon. Sam checked his wounds, unwinding the linen and checking the stitches. When he had determined that they were healing nicely, he washed them with hot water again and reapplied the linen dressing. He told Jon to keep lying on his front for a few more days, to not agitate the wounds, and then he left leaving maester Aemon behind. 

“Jon, how do you feel? Could you answer some questions?” His father asked him. He was kneeling next to the bed by Jon’s head while maester Aemon sat in his vacated chair. He started off easily, “What happened to you?”

Jon almost didn’t want to tell his father the truth, h didn’t want to see the shame in his eyes. Jon had broken his vows, he had lain with a woman. He had broken his honor and it killed him to admit it to his father’s face. To help ease the pain of his betrayal, he started small. “I was shot by a wildling when I tried to come back home.”

“Where have you been?” His father pressed on. Ned had been worried out of his mind, Jon had gone missing beyond the wall on a scouting trip and ended up on the wrong side with arrows in his back. What had he been up to? 

“I have been with the wildlings. I infiltrated their camp and gained their trust, or most of it. All of the wildling groups have banded together under the king beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder. I wanted to know what their plans were.” Jon didn’t mention Ygritte, not yet. 

“How did you get across the wall?” This time it was maester Aemon who asked the question. His blind eyes hanging over Jon’s head through they looked curious.

“I climbed it, with a group of wildlings. They climb over the wall and raid the villages on the other side and then climb back. This time they are set to attack Castle Black.” Jon looked at his father hesitantly, Ned had a terrified look on his face.  
“You climbed… climbed the wall?” His father looked shocked and a bit nauseous. Jon didn’t say anything only nodded. After a few moments his father’s face grew proud and respectful. It had been a stupid and dangerous decision, but it had also been exhilarating and excited, except for the part where he had almost died. He had always loved the view from the top of the wall, there was nothing like it in the world, except maybe from the back of a dragon, which was impossible. He had been excited to see Ygritte’s face at the top, to be able to show her the world. 

“How did you get away from the wildlings?” His father asked this time.

“I betrayed them, we had attacked the man who breeds our horses, to steal them but I alerted him and he got away. My group tracked him down and they ordered me to kill him but I couldn’t. I couldn’t just kill man who had done nothing wrong. I couldn’t do it and another Wildling shot him. The rest of the group was then set to attack us but I pushed her out of the way and fought my way out. It looked like there had been wolves who helped me, almost like dire wolves. I killed a warg who then attacked me through his eagle. I then got away on a horse and made my way to a small pond to wash my eyes out. My… friend found me and shot me full of arrows.” Jon had skirted around his involvement with Ygritte, not from regret but from shame. He could never regret falling for Ygritte, he only regretted his actions. He hadn’t wanted to, had tried everything to not fall for her and yet he had.

“Her? You said that you pushed her out of the way. Why?” Maester Aemon had caught the hesitation in Jon’s voice and probably the emotion he still held for her. 

Jon nodded. “She was my friend. I didn’t want her to die for me.” 

“More than just a friend?” Ned had a look on his face like he couldn’t believe it but the look on Jon’s silenced his almost protest. Jon nodded again. 

“I loved her.” Jon said simply, refusing to look at his father, afraid to see shame on his face. He had tried so hard his whole life to not bring more shame on his father. He had always been the stain on the Stark family and it killed him to add another. Instead Jon stared at the maester whose face only showed a look of understanding. “And yet you returned. You choose duty over love. You remembered.” He didn’t say anything after that, he only smiled and stood from his chair, silently making his way toward the door. 

After they had been alone for a few minutes Ned took back and the chair and bent over towards Jon. Jon still refused to look at his father, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “Jon? Jon.” His father gently grasped his chin and pulled his face up to his own. Jon had closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reopened them expecting to see shame and disgust on his father’s face but he saw neither. He saw love and understanding and maybe a hit of amusement. “You fell in love?”

Jon nodded as tears came to his eyes. He didn’t want to see this look on his father’s face, he didn’t know how to handle it, he had expected to be shouted at about honor and betraying his vows. “Yes, I betrayed my vows. I am sorry father.” Jon waited a few minutes and spoke again. “I wasn’t going to, I tried so hard but in order to convince them that I was no longer a crow…” Jon didn’t finished his sentence, but he didn’t need to, Ned understood what he was going to say. 

“What is a crow?” Ned wondered, he had never heard that word applied to a man before.

“It’s what they call the night’s watch, a crow.” Ned nodded along like he understood the nickname of the ancient institution. “Aren’t you angry with me?” 

Ned looked confused at the insinuation. “Why would I be angry with you? I am ecstatic that you are alive.” 

“I broke my vows, my honor.” Jon didn’t want to see shame on his father’s face but he had thought that his father would be upset with him. He had drilled into him and Robb the importance of honor throughout their entire lives. The last thing that Jon had ever wanted to do would be to bring dishonor onto his family.

“Jon, even the most honorable of men make mistakes. You are young, you will make hundreds of mistakes. It doesn’t matter, you came back.” Ned tried to assuage his guilt, but he felt that Jon might not be able to even with his okay. Jon had always been honorable, even more than Robb when they had been young. Maybe because he was always afraid of making a mistake, of possibly being sent away, but Ned would never have sent him away. 

“You only ever made one mistake in your life father. I have made more than that.” Jon guessed that if anyone could understand what he had gone through, his father would. His father had only made one mistake, making Jon. Of forgetting his honor for a few moments to possibly love a woman. Jon hoped that his father had loved his mother, he had hoped and dreamed about it as a child. That one day his mother would show up and declare that she had always loved him and that his father would set aside Lady Stark and they could all be happy together. It had taken far longer than Jon would admit for those dreams to fade away and reality to set in. 

“I have made far more than one mistake. I have told many lies throughout the years, but all in the effort of protection.” Jon scoffed at the idea that his father could even tell a single lie. HI father as the most honorable man in the seven kingdoms, probably the whole world. “It’s true. I have kept a secret that could bring this land to its knees.” Jon was shocked and intrigued, what secret could his father have possibly kept, other than the information of Jon’s mothers secret?

“A secret?” Jon didn’t want to come right out and ask about the secret, even though that is all he could think about.

“Yes, but I will not tell you today, I will another day when you are stronger.” Ned stood and walked over to the table and grabbed the bottle of milk of the poppy and brought it back over to Jon. “Sleep now and get better.” He tipped some of the potion into his mouth and left Jon to rest. It took a few moments for Jon to find sleep and in those moments he thought about all of the secrets that his father could possibly have kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon has finally arrived!! I really loved writing this chapter, I love Jon's character. 
> 
> Ned keeps jumping back and forth between refereeing to Jon as his son and his nephew, but in his mind it really is. He had raised Jon from an infant and yet he is not his real father. I will probably keep doing this as I can't decide which side Ned will choose, father or uncle.


	6. To go north?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb survived and is about to head north but who will join him?

Robb awoke to excruciating pain, so much pain that his stomach seized up. He tried to quickly roll over onto his side to empty his stomach, but the pain from his shoulder prevented it. He thought that he would choke on his vomit but at the last moment someone helped him onto his side. As his stomach was emptying itself of its contents, he remembered what had happened.

He wanted to dismiss it all as a terrible nightmare but the pain in his shoulder reminded him it wasn’t. He remembered being stabbed in the back, he remembered Grey Wind had saved him and tried to get him out of the castle but they had been stopped in the entrance hall. He vividly remembered seeing all the blood, seeing his mother lying on the ground would forever be etched in his brain and hearing the pain in his wolves howl.

He suddenly remembered seeing Jon’s face. The thought brought his head back up, his stomach now empty of everything he had eaten at the Frey’s. Now only bile resided in his stomach and pain in his heart. Through the watering of his eyes he saw a long face and long dark hair. Robb smiled seeing the face of his dear brother but as his eyes stopped watering he saw that it was not his brother who had saved him but his little sister. 

Arya. Arya. “Arya?”

“There you are older brother.” Arya rubbed his back as Robb’s weak body still convulsed. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” She held a wine skin to his lips and he was about to deny the thought of wine but water came out of it instead. He tried to take a large mouthful but promptly spit it back up. “Easy now brother, take small sips.” Once he had quenched his thirst he tried to sit up, but his back protested. “Robb, you are not going to be moving for a while, got a nasty slice in your back.”

“How long has it been?” At his question, Arya looked away. “Arya… How long have I been out?”

Arya looked back at him with sadness in her eyes. “Nearly a week. You lost a lot of blood, we didn’t think you were going to make it there for a while.” Arya got him to lay back down, the pain in his back lessening greatly. “I got your back sewn up, it should be pretty well healed by now, but I would still recommend not moving.” 

“A week.” Robb whispered, looking away. He brought his hand up to his face as tears started to form. His mother had been dead for a week and he had been asleep. Robb silently cried for a while, Arya sitting close by, not speaking a word, tears coming to her eyes as well. 

After some time a branch snapped a couple yards away and Robb tried to jump to his feet but before he could even get his torso off the ground, Arya was there to push him back down. From behind her a large figure came out of the woods, a tall man with a half burnt face. Robb recognized him from somewhere but he couldn’t place it. 

“He up?” The man briefly grunted at them and Robb realized that the man was speaking to his sister. She didn’t say anything but Robb caught his eyes. “Great, another mouth to feed.” In his hand he held three rabbits, with another grunt he sat down on a large boulder and began to skin them. Arya got up and moved over to help him, moving quicker so that by the time he was done with one she had already skinned the other two and speared them on a spit. “Show off,” the man grunted again and Arya smirked at him. 

With their quick movements, Robb surmised that they had been traveling together for some time. “Who are you?” Robb wanted to know who the man was that was so chummy with his sister. If Robb could have stood at the moment, he would’ve threatened the man. 

Robb had expected the man to speak but wasn’t surprised when his sister spoke, “The hound.” Robb had not expected the man traveling with his sister to be a man who worked for the Lannister’s. When Arya looked back at Robb and saw his face she stopped his train of thought. “He doesn’t work for the Lannisters anymore.”

Robb wanted to question her, he actually had quite a few questions for her but only one came to his mind. “Where are we?”  
This time it was the Hound who spoke, “South of the Twins.” At his tone, Robb guessed he was not happy to be south.   
“Where are we headed?”

Arya simply said, “To Riverrun.” With the last word she sat down next to the fire to twist the spit over the fire that the rabbits were stuck on. The smell from the cooking rabbits was making his stomach growl and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything since his wedding nearly a week prior. Thinking of his wedding brought back the terrible memories of what happened next and Robb didn’t want to remember, at least not yet. It was all still so fresh and raw in his mind.

"Arya, how did you escape King's landing?" Robb had to know. If Arya had escaped, maybe Sansa had too. The Lannisters had obviously lied when they said that they had both of the sisters. Maybe they had neither?

"I escaped during the siege." And Arya went on the explain how she had been found by Yoren, her time at Harrenhall and finally with the Brotherhood without banners where she had been caught by the Hound. She explained how they had come to the Twins and how they had found Robb.

Robb was amazed at the story, at the strength and cunning his youngest sister possessed. Father had never talked about his sister Lyanna but from the stories told about her at Winterfell, it seemed that Arya was just like her. 

It was another couple of days before Robb could sit up and stand, a few more before he could walk around without help. As soon as he could sit on a horse without falling, they rode to Riverrun, Arya sitting behind him on his horse.

They were welcomed by their uncle, Ser Brynden, more commonly known as Blackfish and their other uncle Edmure. Their grandfather had died only a few weeks prior, a great loss to the river lands. The three of them were allowed to take hot baths and dress in clean clothes before they sat down to a great feast. 

“Everybody thinks you are dead now.” Blackfish directed at Robb. “Winterfell and Warden of the north was passed to the Boltons.” He spoke without mercy, merely telling them the truth and letting them deal with the harsh reality. 

“What about Rickon?” Arya spoke of her youngest brother, not wanting to believe that anything had happened to him. She looked back and forth between her two uncles and her brother. “There must always be a Stark at Winterfell.” She whispered and no one said a word. None of them wanted to say what they were all thinking or hoping, that somehow Rickon had gotten away. They didn’t want to think of what would have happened to the boy if the Boltons took over Winterfell and he was still there. Robb felt terrible, it was him who had left Rickon alone at the castle, the only Stark left to hold it while Robb went south to get married. “He got away, I’m sure of it. He got away.” Arya muttered to herself, now absorbed into her food. 

“What do you plan on doing now?” His uncle Edmure asked Robb, but Robb shook his head, not knowing what to do. His whole life he had been taught one thing, to rule Winterfell. He didn’t know what he would do without it. 

Blackfish slammed his glass onto the table. “It seems you only have three choices, you can go to Essos, take the black or stay here.” Robb looked at his uncle in confusion. Not understanding how those where his only three options. “You won’t be able to take back the north. The Crown won’t allow it, they finally have someone who will bend to their power. The Boltons might have been your banner men but they are a foul bunch, especially that bastard of Roose Bolton. Have you heard the rumors about him?” His uncle had asked the table but only the hound shook his head yes, but neither wanted to talk about it. “Everyone thinks you’re dead, the Boltons have already claimed that they have your body.”

“The Frey’s broke the guest’s honor. That is forbidden.” Robb tried to reason with them but only his uncle Edmure and his sister believed in that. Blackfish and the hound already knew what the world really was, a shit fest.

“No one cares about the fuckin guest’s honor.” The hound stated but Robb shook his head no, about to argue with him.  
“He’s right boy. The crown had already spun the story. They sent out a missive to every house, they said that you went crazy and tried to kill everyone. They said that you tried to kill your new wife, that you did kill your mother and that you got your wolf to attack them. If you showed yourself now, they will claim you murderer and execute you.”  
“I would never kill my mother, they attacked us.” Robb said forcefully, not wanting to believe that people would ever believe such lies.

“What’s your proof? You have nothing but your word, but they have your mother’s body and your wolf’s. Your new wife would only say what her father told her to say. I believe you, I do my boy, but you have lost the game.” His uncle who was a hard bastard had a look of pity on his face. Pity for the shit show his niece’s family had been dealt. “If you want my advice, go to Essos, sell your sword. Here you can’t win but there you could make a life for yourself.” Robb shook his head no. No son of a Stark would ever sell his sword. A sell sword was a man without honor and a Stark is nothing but honorable. “Fine, then go to the wall. Go join your father and bastard brother.” But if Robb went to the wall, Arya couldn’t go with him. They didn’t allow girls into the Night’s watch, no matter how talented they were. Maybe they could rally the northern houses, the ones loyal to house Stark, they could take back Winterfell. Maybe they could split away from the seven kingdoms, the north was already pretty much separated, had been for years, this could be their chance. Blackfish could see the different choices racing across Robb’s face and tried to reason with him. “Honor is dead my boy. In these kingdoms honor will only bring you death.” Robb stared at his uncle, debating his choices. He felt sick and he excused himself to go back to his room. 

Once in his room, Robb paced back and forth in front of the smoking fire, debating his choices. Essos was out, he could never do it; he could never sell his sword for money. He could stay at Riverrun, but what life could that bring, he and Arya would just become nuisances to their uncles. They could go north to the wall, but he wouldn’t be able to take them black, someone had to watch out for Arya. They could live in Molestown, but what life could that bring them. There was no good option. 

Robb wished that he could go back in time, back to before the king had come. Back to stop his father from going south. Back to stop Jon from going to the wall. He wanted to go back to the days when lie was good. Back to when he and Jon would spar and ride for hours. Back to when Jon would secretly teach Arya how to shoot arrows while Robb stood watch. Back to when his mother was alive, when Bran could walk and their family was whole. As he was contemplating his life, he hadn’t noticed when Arya had snuck into his room. It was when he had turned back around to pace to the other side of the room and happened to glance to his bed that he saw her sitting on it and watching him. “Gods Arya, you almost killed me.” It spooked him and he clutched his chest to stop his racing heart rom jumping out of his chest. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough to watch your pace four times around the room. What is making you think so hard?” Robb stopped pacing and sat on the bed next to Arya. 

“Just contemplating our choices. Where will we go, to Essos, to Molestown or do we stay here?” Robb asked his sister but he didn’t think that she would have an answer so he looked away from her and back into the fire.

“Easy.” Robb snapped his head back to face her so fast that his neck cracked. He almost asked how this could be an easy choice but Arya cut him off. “You will go north to the wall and I will go to Braavos.” She stated her opinion so honestly that Robb thought for a moment that she was serious and he started laughing. When she didn’t laugh or crack a smile Robb stopped.

“Arya, you can’t go to Braavos. We can not be separated right now. We are all that we have.” Robb tried to reason with her but with every word that Robb spoke to her, her face became darker and darker. She looked away from Robb, fingering her small sword. “Arya. Look at me.” When she was looking at him again, she spoke. “I cannot lose you.” Robb pleaded with her, he pleaded with his words, with his voice and with his eyes. He had lost everyone, he would not lose her too.

“Robb, I have to go and you cannot come with me.” Arya patted his hand and moved to leave the room. To Robb it was as if she had aged five years, her voice was strong and confident yet she was young and small. She let herself out of his room and Robb grew even more worried. He had thought that Arya had been joking, she couldn’t go all the way to Braavos alone, she was too young and a girl. Who would protect her? Why would she want to go to Braavos? Questions again plagued Robb, as they had been for the past few months. After a while his brain throbbed painfully and Robb stopped thinking for the night and tried to get some rest, but e found it difficult. He used to sleep so peacefully, always dreaming of running in the woods like a wolf, but since Grey Wind had died he had slept fitfully. 

The next morning Robb woke before sunrise and as he was dressing he glanced out the window at the gradually increasing sunrise and what he saw stopped his heart. Before he knew what he was doing, he was out of his room and running with all of his might down to the water. There on the shore was a small dingy and next to it stood a small figure but Robb knew who the figure was, his stubborn little sister. As she was about to push off, he grabbed the edge of the boat stopping her. “Arya, stop, what are you doing?” 

Arya tried to rip the boat from his strong hands but she wasn’t strong enough. “I have to do this Robb, you have to let me go.” Arya stood in front of him in a dark cloak, with its hood pulled over her head. She looked like a little boy, dressed in her breeches and tunic with her sword strapped to her waist. “I have to do this.”

“Do what? Leave? Please don’t leave.” Robb pleaded with her to change her mind. He knew that he could pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and take her back up to the castle but he didn’t. One it would have been extremely painful and he would’ve opened his healing wound and two she had to make the decision herself. He could force her to stay but at some point she would get free or she would grow to hate him for stopping her. Robb didn’t want her to go, he couldn’t stand for it. He was her elder brother, he was supposed to protect her. He hadn’t been able to save Sansa or find Bran or get to Rickon but he had Arya in his arms. He didn’t want to be alone, he had already lost his mother; he didn’t want to lose his sister. He was fighting a loosing battle, he could see it in her eyes. He pleaded with her, “Please don’t leave Arya.”

“I have to Robb. It is something I have to do. Please understand this.” Arya pleaded back to him, pleaded with him to understand and to let her go. They stared back and forth for several minutes, silently pleading the other person to give in. It was Robb who caved. He let go of the boat and stepped away with tears in his eyes. 

Arya also let go of the boat and threw herself in his arms, thanking him for understanding, even if he really didn’t. She kissed his cheek and let go. “Be safe. Be strong. Please come home.” Arya nodded and Robb kissed her forehead, stalling a bit before hugging her to him one last time and then letting her go. 

He helped her into the boat and pushed her off. He waved at her and he heard her say one last thing before silently paddling away. “I will get justice for our family, I swear it.” Robb’s spine chilled at the words but he didn’t want to accept the truth behind the words. He watched her paddle down the river towards the fork. He silently prayed to the gods, the old and the new, to whatever god would keep his sister safe. 

When the sun had risen and Arya was long gone, Robb trudged back up to the castle to find his uncles sitting down to break their fast. When he told them about Arya, they wanted to immediately go after her but Robb stopped them. He told them that Arya could take care of herself and desperately hoped that it was true. 

A few days later Robb was ready to head north, up to the wall. He had made his choice, to take the black with his father and his brother. At least they would all be together now. When he told his uncle about his choice, he showed him a scroll he had gotten a few weeks prior, from Castle Black. The maester had wrote that there was death marching on the wall. That their lord commander had taken a ranging party north of the wall but only one had come back. Robb didn’t want to believe it but somehow in his gut he knew it to be true. He needed to get north as soon as possible.

He was set to leave the next morning when out of the blue Sandor Clegane dropped his parcel in the small boat next to Robbs and grabbed the edge of the boat. “What are you doing?”

“What the fuck does it look like, I’m coming with you. I ain’t gonna stay here with these cunts.” Robb looked behind him to see his uncles seeing him off, they both shrugged at Robb’s confusion. 

“Okay then. On we go.” They pushed the boat into the water and quickly got inside. They were headed the same way that Arya had gone, only when thy go to the sea that would get on a boat going north towards Eastwatch instead of East towards Braavos. They both grabbed a small paddle and set to work. “Why are you heading north with me Clegane?”

“Don’t have nowhere else to go. Might as well go north.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, two chapters in one day, don't get used to it. I was very dedicated today and the words just flowed. They were also pretty short chapters. 
> 
> I hope you liked the follow up chapter to Robb's failed wedding. I hadn't originally thought that I would write a follow up, I thought that I would just do flashbacks but I got really inspired. In this story Arya got Needle back earlier, before they found Robb. 
> 
> The next chapter will be Ned telling Jon the truth. How do you think he will handle it? :|


	7. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the chapter we have all been waiting for, the reveal of Jon's parentage by Ned Stark himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all like this!

It had taken several days for Jon to be able to lay on his back without pain. He had been able to get up and move around but his muscles were still stiff. He was gladly back to wearing black, his color of choice, he had missed the comforting color. When he had first come back he had been anxious to get up and move around, in case the free people came knocking. He wasn’t looking forward to having to fight his former love, her arrows were pretty deadly. 

For most of the past several days Jon had laid in bed or walked around castle black. He was set to go before the council to explain his actions in another day and he still didn’t know what he would say to defend himself. After his father had spent the majority of his first two days with Jon, for the past few he had been mostly missing. Sure he had come to see him several times but he had always stayed only a few minutes. Never long enough for a conversation past how he was feeling. Jon was frustrated, he remembered how the last time he had seen his father, he had promised to tell Jon about his mother, but now it felt as if he was avoiding it. The only person who would come visit Jon and stay for a while was Sam, but even after a while he had to leave. 

Jon missed Ghost, he missed his presence and his calmness. It was a funny thing to think about a dire wolf, calmness, but that was Ghost. Always silent, always calm unless someone threated Jon or himself. He hadn’t seen him since Jon had gone on that ranging mission north of the wall and had met Ygritte. He knew that somewhere Ghost was safe, he could feel it in his bones, though there was always an anxious tick to it, like he was waiting on Jon. At night in his dreams, he felt like he was a wolf but it was always the same dream, him locked inside a wooden cave. He howled and howled but no one ever came.

Jon warmed his hands by the fire after coming back to his room from a long walk around the castle culminating in a trip to the top of the wall. As his hands were almost warm his father came into the room. Jon smiled, finally he could get his father to sit down and talk to him. 

“Glad to see you are up and about again.” Ned came over to the fire and held his hands out to warm them up next to Jon. 

Jon couldn’t talk any small talk anymore, at least not until he heard something about his mother. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he opened them again as he turned to his father. “Father, the last time that we had spoken before I left for the wall and you went south, you said that you would tell me about my mother.” The words all came out jumbled and way to fast but they were out. Pleading with his eyes, Jon gazed at his father, pleading with him to tell him something, anything. 

“Aye, I did.” Ned sighed but it didn’t sound like a happy sigh, more like a defeated one. He sat down in the chair he had sat in while Jon had recovered from his wounds, urging Jon to sit on his bed. “This isn’t easy Jon.” Ned had a sad look in his eyes and Jon instantly knew something was wrong. His mother must be dead. Even though he had always figured that she was, he had never felt surer than that moment. He had expected that, but he had never expected the words his father would speak next. “Jon, I am not your father.” 

Jon was shocked, shocked silent. Out of all the words in the world, he had never expected to hear those. He didn’t understand, of course his father was his father. “What? That’s ridiculous, of course you are. I look just like you.” Jon really did look like his father, though shorter and some would say prettier but Jon had always figured he had gotten that from his mother. Jon looked more like his father than all of the other Stark kids except maybe Arya.

“You look like your mother.” Ned let that sink in for a moment before he continued. “Your mother was my sister Lyanna. I am your uncle.” Jon’s heart stopped. He couldn’t be, his father had never talked about Lyanna, she had died during the war of a fever. 

“No.” No, it couldn’t be. He had only wanted to know her name or what she had looked like, he didn’t want to completely change his life. Jon felt his heart beat too fast and too slow at the same time. 

“The rebellion was built on a lie. Rhaegar Targaryen did not kidnap Lyanna, they ran away together. They loved each other.” 

“No!” Jon shouted, he wanted to scream but his voice caught in his throat. “He raped her, he killed her.” Jon didn’t know much about the rebellion, past that it had been started by Rhaegar and Lyanna. His uncle and his grandfather were murdered because of it, thousands of people died, Rhaegar’s children and wife were murdered. There was one statement that came to everyone’s mind when they thought of it, that Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped Lyanna Stark and took her to Dorne where she was found dead from a fever. It was all a lie. Jon could feel his breath increase to the point where he was hyperventilating, or only thought he was. His brain was moving a mile a minute, tracing back over everything that he had ever heard about the rebellion. 

His father started speaking again, speaking slowly and clearly. “He didn’t kidnap her nor did he ever rape her. They were married in a secret ceremony in Dorne. I didn’t know that at the time, I didn’t learn that till much later. I found Lyanna in the Tower of Joy in Dorne after Robert had already killed Rhaegar. She was dying. In her last moments she had me promise to save you. To save you from Robert and keep you safe. So I told everyone you were mine and I took you back to the north. I raised you as my son.” The more words his father spoke, the more Jon knew it was true. It made sense, everything did. The only dishonorable thing that Ned Stark had ever done was have a bastard, it had shocked everyone, but it was false. His father wasn’t Ned Stark.

Jon stood from his place on his bed, his hands clenched into fists. His blood was boiling, anger and fear raising. He wanted to scream, he wanted to throw things, he wanted to sob out in despair. “It can’t be true.” He whispered, his voice a sharp contrast to his appearance. Jon looked up at his father/uncle, trying to process everything that had been said. “You told me I was your son. You told me I had your blood.” He desperately wanted to hear that he was wrong, that everything he had just said was a lie and he really was his son. He didn’t want to be the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.

But he didn’t say it, instead he only confirmed everything he had already said. “I told you that to protect you. I told you that you had Stark blood, just not from me.” Tears leaked out of Jon’s eyes, his fists clenching even more, his fingers popping at the pressure. His finger nails dug into the skin of his palms, drawing blood but Jon didn’t care.   
Jon raised his fists up to his head, opening his hands and gripped his head, ripping his hands through his hair. Strands of his hair caught in between his fingers but he didn’t care, didn’t even flinch when he pulled several out. He spun around in a circle, his vision losing focus, he stumbled into the wall. He slammed his left fist into the rock wall, letting out a scream at the contact, a sound made more out of grief than in pain. He spun back and around and slide down the wall, bringing his legs up around him and wrapping his arms around his head. He was curled up like a child but in his grief he didn’t care. Tears ran down his cheeks, falling onto his tunic, soaking it. Sobs wracked his body but no sounds escaped, they were stuck in his throat. 

Ned watched his son grieve, heartbroken at the sight. He wished for the thousandth time since he had brought Jon home that Jon was actually his son. He wished that he could comfort him, hearing his son, who bore the world on his shoulders, cry was difficult. Watching a person of such strength on the cusp of grief was heart breaking. Ned didn’t know what to do, he had never been one to handle emotions well. He decided that he would give Jon space, give him time to process all of the changes that his information had brought. 

He stopped with his hand on the door, looking back at Jon one last time. He didn’t know if he should speak again but he thought he should give Jon one more thing about his mother. Jon still sat curled into himself. “Jon.” At the mention of his name, Jon looked up at Ned, eyes red and tears tracts down his red cheeks. “I know that you have always wanted to know what your mother looked like. The truth is, you have seen her every time you have looked at yourself in a mirror or in a clear lake. You are her spitting image.” With that Ned opened the door and stepped through, closing the door behind him. 

In the empty hallway Ned placed his hand on the opposite wall, clinging to life. He wanted to slide to the ground like Jon had, he wanted to hit the walls and scream at his sister. He wished that she was there at that moment to hold her son, to comfort him, to just be there. Tears had run out of Ned’s eyes blurring the wall in front of him. Ned allowed himself to give into his reawakened grief, sobbing into his hands for several minutes in the empty hallway. After his tears lessened, he wiped them away and slowly made his way back to his own room, thankfully not meeting anyone in the hallways. He hoped that Jon could forgive him. He hoped to not lose his son/nephew after everything he had done.

***************************

The morning after Jon found out the truth about his parentage, was the day he was to meet with the group of brothers. Jon hadn't slept well the night before, he had fallen asleep curled up next to the wall, his eyes swollen and crusty. His dreams had been chaotic and messy, built on glimpses of silver hair intertwined with black hair. He didn't have enough time to fully comprehend everything that he had learned last night before a knock came to his door.

Sam was the person to come and get him for his meeting. He had to stand in front of his brothers and explain to them his actions. He didn’t put on his sword, for the first time since he got to the wall he didn’t have a sword. It was like missing a part of himself.

His trial was in the dining hall. When Jon walked in, the room was empty save for the head table. Five men sat there, Ser Alliser Thorne, Janos Slynt and his newly acquired family members, Maester Aemon and two others. Ser Alliser sat in the center with Slynt on his right and Maester Aemon on his left. Jon had already confessed to Maester Aemon but he was there for his duty as Maester of Castle Black.

“So you’ve returned.” Ser Alliser was bored with Jon, bored with everything Jon Snow. He had hoped that when he had gone beyond the wall that he would never have to deal with Ned Stark’s bastard again. But not only had Jon come back but Ned Stark had come to the wall. “Where have you been?”

“When I was beyond the wall, I was captured by wildlings along with Qhorin Halfhand and I killed him to insert myself into their fold. I climb the wall with a group of Wildlings and I came back home.” The story that Jon told them was short and left without many details. The only people who knew the whole truth, where the only ones who needed to know. 

“So you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand?” Ser Alliser questioned, enjoying the feeling of finally being able to get rid of Jon. 

“I didn't murder him.” Jon clearly stated, angry at how these men could think that. 

Ser Alliser smirks, “No? You put your sword through a brother of the Night's Watch. What do you call that?” 

“He wanted me to kill him.” Jon tried to explain, he wanted them to understand why he had done what he had done. Jon had not wanted to kill Qhorin, he had only done it because he had had no choice. It was a death he very much regretted. 

Jon had never met Janos Slynt before he came back. He was from a newer recruitment class than Jon, after Jon had already gone beyond the wall. In the past few days Jon had noticed that Slynt and Thorne were some sort of friends, which did not bode well for him. “A bastard son of a traitor. What would you expect?” The fact that they could joke about his fath− uncle being a traitor was ironic since Jon had heard that Slynt was traitor as well. 

Not letting them rile him up, he couldn’t let his temper get loose. “The Halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army.” 

“Don't talk about the Halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother.” Jon wanted to yell that he was his brother too but he didn’t. 

“Then you'd know he'd do anything to defend the Wall. The free folk would have boiled him alive, but letting me kill him-“ Jon was boiling in his anger now. They questioned every decision that he made. Jon knew that he had betrayed his vows, but he did it to save the realm, he did it to help save his brothers.

Jon was interrupted by the slimly man, “The free folk? Listen to him. He even talks like a wildling now.” Every time he spoke, he had a little smirk on his face. 

“Aye, I talk like a wildling. I ate with the wildlings. I climbed the Wall with the wildlings. I-- I laid with a wildling girl.” Jon’s voice cracked when he admitted his last betrayal. Even though he had already told his fath− uncle and Maester Aemon, he still felt a weight drop in his stomach as the mention. 

“You admit to breaking your vows, then?” 

“I do.” Admitting that he had broken his vows was a hard thing for Jon and he had been struggling with it ever since it had happened. He wished that he wanted to take it back but he didn’t. 

“The law is the law. The boy must die.” What the fuck did this man know, he couldn’t have been at the wall longer than a year? He spoke in a way that made him seem like he was walking on air, that he knew everything. Jon hated this man. 

Luckily his great-great-great uncle came to his defense. “If we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men.” At least Jon had come to the wall, ready to accept that vow, the rest of the men went to Mole’s Town every chance they got. 

“There's a difference between sneaking off to the Mole's Town brothel and sleeping with the enemy.” Jon knew that he had in fact slept with the enemy but he had done it in the chance of defeating the wildlings. 

There were more important things to discuss than his sex life and Jon wanted to get back to it. “While we sit here debating which rules I broke, Mance Rayder marches on the Wall with an army of 100,000.” Jon knew they wouldn’t believe him but he had to make them understand. 

“Impossible. You can't get 50 wildlings together before they start killing each other.” Not anymore jackass. The night’s watch had been naive, they had banked on the wildlings never joining forces. They had thought them too uncivilized to become an army and now they were and the Night’s watch had less than 1,000 men. 

Jon reiterated his point again, “One hundred thousand, he's united the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the ice-river clans. He has giants fighting for him.” Again he was interrupted by the slime. 

Slynt had the audacity to laugh at the mention of the ancient creatures. “Giants?” Jon almost forgave his slight, had he not seen them first hand, Jon would also have smirked and said impossible, but the tone of sarcasm stopped any further forgiveness. 

“Have you ever been beyond the Wall, ser?” This man had never been beyond the wall and yet he questioned the firsthand knowledge that Jon brought. 

“I commanded the City Watch of King's Landing, boy.” 

Jon wanted to smirk at him but kept his facial expression hidden. “And now you're here. You must not have been very good at your job.” 

His jab brought the man to his feet, outraged.“How dare you?!”

Jon ignored him, no longer interested in exchanging barbs. The Night’s watch had a war on their hands and they needed as much time as possible to get ready for it. “There's a band of wildlings south of the Wall already led by Tormund Giantsbane. I killed their warg and three others. They shot me full of arrows. Their orders are to attack Castle Black from the south when Mance hits it from the north. The signal for the attack will be a bonfire. Mance said it would be the greatest fire the North has ever seen. That's the truth. All the truth. Do you intend to execute me or am I free to go?” Jon had now given all of the information he could give and he was ready to get out of this hell hole and back to the fight. 

His uncle came to his rescue once again. “None of us are free. We are men of the Night's Watch. But we won't be taking your head today, Jon Snow. Go on.” Jon inclined his head towards his great-great-great uncle in thanks for saving his life. Jon was finally able to leave and did as soon as possible but the men remained inside. 

The men stood up from the table save for Alliser and Slynt, who were less inclined. Aemon could tell that Ser Alliser was angry with him, Aemon had pulled rank and allowed the boy to go free. “I am acting commander here, Maester Aemon.”

Aemon wanted to laugh at the silly man behind him. He only smirked as one of the men helped him down the stairs, “Yes, you are.” 

Aemon wished that he could have told Ser Alliser the truth of Jon in that moment. “And I don't trust the bastard.” He wanted to yell at the stupid man but didn’t. 

He simply said, “He told the truth.” 

Alliser was even angrier at the insinuation that telling the truth was enough to forgo executing someone who had broken his vows. “And you always know when a man's telling a lie? How did you acquire this magical power?” Aemon might be able to tell when most men told a lie but the fact that the man in question was his great-great-great nephew made it easier to tell a lie. 

If only this man knew the truth about him. “I grew up in King's Landing.”

**************************

Several days had passed since Jon’s world fell apart. He didn’t speak much or eat much. He didn’t go to meals, instead Sam had taken to bringing him food. The only person Jon had talked too had been Sam and only small words. He had asked him what was wrong but Jon couldn’t answer. He wouldn’t even know what to say, that his father was actually his uncle and his aunt was his mother and the villain of the rebellion was his father. 

Jon spent hours thinking about his life, thinking about every detail that had ever happened to him. He laid in bed and thought about his own face, the only reference to the face of his mother. He tried to imagine what she had looked like, what she had sounded like, laughed like. Everyone said that Arya was like Lyanna reborn, a she-wolf with fire in her belly. He imagined a woman older than Arya and a man with silver hair and purple eyes, trying to form a picture of his parents. 

He was lying in bed, playing an imagined scene in his head, trying to imagine what his life would have been like had his parents lived. A knock sounded on his door, shaking him out of his dream. He hoped that it wasn’t his fath- his uncle, he wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. He didn’t even know what to say. What do you say to the man you had thought your father but was actually your uncle who had been lying to you your whole life?

It wasn’t his uncle, it was Sam. “Maester Aemon would like to speak with you.” Jon hadn’t talked directly with his uncle since the day he had told him the truth and he hadn’t had a conversation alone with him since before he left beyond the wall. What could the maester want with him? Oh, gods, does he know about Jon’s heritage? Had his uncle told him? Jon didn’t say anything to Sam, he only nodded and followed him to the library. They didn’t speak on the way, Jon was too caught up in his thoughts to even attempt a conversation. 

Outside the door Jon stopped Sam, “Thank you Sam.” He didn’t wait for a response, he only opened the door and stepped inside. 

The Library was dark save for a roaring fire and a couple candles. It was empty except for his uncle who sat in one of two chairs in front of the fire. “Come and sit down Jon.”

Jon went and sat in the chair opposite his uncles, though he knew that his uncle couldn’t see him, Jon still looked straight at Aemon before he spoke. “You wanted to speak with me.” 

“Yes, yes I did. I thought we should get to know one and other.” A long and awkward silence settled over them at his last words. Jon didn’t know where to start and it seemed that Aemon was content to wait. After several minutes, Aemon spoke, “You know, before you came back, your father and I spoke like this many times, or I guess I should say your uncle.” 

Jon had suspected that Aemon knew the truth, he always did seem to know everything. “So you know the truth?”   
“You father didn’t know how to tell you, he tried out several speeches on me other the past few months.” Jon was shocked, he had only been thinking of how hard the truth had been on him not on how hard the truth must have been for his father to tell him. “In fact, we sat in these exact spots the night he told me about you, though I had suspected the truth long before he came to the wall.”

“What do you mean you suspected the truth? How could you possibly know?” How could this man know the truth, no one in the seven kingdoms had ever suspected the truth. Jon didn’t even have a clue about anything until his uncle told him. 

“I could just tell… it’s in the blood.” The blood of the dragon. How anyone could possibly think that a man could share the same blood as a mystically beast was beyond Jon. 

“So I guess you are my uncle- my something great uncle.”

“Yes.” He simply said and waited several seconds almost as if he had to gather his thoughts. “I have not met a person of my family in many, many years. I once met Aerys when he had come to the wall many years ago but unfortunately I never met Rhaegar. I wish I had…We did trade a few letters when he was young and before I lost my sight.” Aemon had a sad frown on his face as he turned to look at Jon instead of blindly staring into the fire. It was almost as if he could see Jon, his dead eyes staring directly into Jon’s.

“And here I am, the secret Targaryen.” It was the first time he had referred to himself as a Targaryen, even in his thoughts he hadn’t. 

“A secret yes, a most dangerous secret kept for over 17 years.”

Jon felt defeated, a feeling that had surrounded him for the past several days. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Jon hunched over his knees, putting his face into his hands, as if his head weighed too much in that moment. 

“You are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and the son of Ned Stark. You can be both.” His words made the decision seem easy, Jon didn’t have to choose, he could just be both, but it didn’t feel like that. It always felt like he had to choose, but there would be no contest, he would always choose being a stark over being a Targaryen. “Rhaegar might have been your sire but he was not your father. Ned Stark was the man who raised you, the man who taught you right from wrong. No matter how much Rhaegar would have wished to have been able to teach you and I am sure of that, he was not there.” Aemon was sure that had Rhaegar lived, he would have embraced his son with loving arms. Though they never met, in his letters he seemed like a loving and honorable man, nothing like his father Aerys. “Your parents loved you but they were never present in your life, Ned Stark was. He did everything he could to protect you.”

Jon threw up his hands, his head falling straight towards his chest before he caught it and brought it up to look at his uncle. “Why did he never tell me?”

“He made a promise to your mother.” Aemon’s answer was the simplest answer Jon could think of. It made no real attempt at describing the true intent of Ned Stark. Did his father only want to forget about his sister? Did Ned Stark even care for him or was the limited affection over the years only brought out by guilt? 

Jon stood from his chair and circled it, he placed his palms on the back of the chair and leaned into it. “Yes, to protect me but he could have told me at any time. Why wait? If he hadn’t taken the black under the threat of treason, he never would have told me. I would have gone my entire life, not knowing who I am.” He stood up from his perch, once more circling the chair but he did not sit down, instead he stood by the fire with one hand braced against the mantle. 

“Knowing who your parents are does not define you. Would it have changed anything? Would you have loved your uncle any less? Would you have love your cousins any less than siblings?” 

“I might not have joined the night’s watch.” Jon whispered the words, trying to imagine what his life could have been like had his father told him, but nothing could come to his mind. It seemed that he may have been destined to come to the wall no matter what. 

“Jon, your uncle worked his entire life to make sure you were safe. Maybe he never told you to protect you. To give you a family instead of alienating you. By embracing you as his son, you were raised in a loving family, maybe not by his wife but by your siblings. You grew up surrounded by your family. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing. You had a family, a family that others did not have.” Jon knew that Aemon was thinking not of himself but about the only other Targaryen in the world, Daenerys. No matter what Jon did feel happy to have had a family at the end of the day. Arya and Robb, Bran and Rickon, even Sansa though she always treated him like Lady Stark had. Jon had had a family, a messy and complicated one but a family who loved him none the less. “Jon, I think you are forgetting the most important part, had your uncle not claimed you as his own, you would have been killed at his feet. Robert could not let a son of Rhaegar Targaryen live. Just think about the horrible acts that were committed to your brother and sister, murdered in their beds. You were lucky to have an uncle who found you before the Lannisters did, lucky to have someone put their life on the life to protect yours.” Jon didn’t want to think about his brother and sister, the stories of their deaths had horrified him even before he knew the truth. Now that he did, it made him even angrier at the Lannister, angry enough to kill them. He would set fire to them and watch them burn, watch them return to the gates of the hell they had escaped from. Jon’s dark thoughts scared him, he had never thought about murder before, even if the people did deserve it. 

Eager to jump away from his dark thoughts, he tried again to understand why. “Yes, but why did he never tell me? Why wait till now?” He still didn’t get it. Why wait? 

“Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you?” His uncle suggests. “When you spend your life telling everyone one thing, you start to believe it yourself. Throughout the realm it is known that the Starks are made of honor and Ned Stark most of all. It was believed that the one stain on his honor was your birth, but in fact it was the most honorable thing he had ever done. Yes it was a lie, a lie he kept from you your whole life but he only did it for your protection. If you want to know why he never told you, you are going to have to ask him. No one can give you the answer you are seeking but him.” Jon wasn’t ready to talk to his uncle yet, he still felt angry at him. 

“Why didn’t he tell me the truth about the night’s watch?” At Aemon confused look, Jon elaborated. “My whole life I had thought that the Watch was an honorable profession and that men of honor guarded the wall but it was a lie. The wall is manned by murderers and rapists.” It was a question he had had ever since he had arrived. How could no one have told him, not his soused father or his uncle? The only one who had ever mentioned it was Tyrion Lannister. 

“My boy, you are imagining a world from the stories told of honor and glory. When you first came here you did not understand, naivety was all around you, but as you have been here you have learned the truth of the world. It is dark and full of terrors, the night’s watch is the first defense against those terrors.” Jon dropped his hand from the mantle and turned to look at his uncle. “Compared to those terrors, who you call murderers and rapists are silly children. Throughout the years I have been here the threats beyond the wall have been disintegrated into silly bedtime stories told to children to get them to behave. Those thoughts keep people feeling safe, chaos would reign if they truly knew the horrors beyond the wall.” 

Jon went and sat down in his previously abandoned seat. “But no one told me, they told me the stories, led me to believe they were fiction. They sent me here to die.”

“Jon, what distinguishes the night’s watch from the other warriors in the seven kingdoms?” Aemon asked, once again looking at him like he could truly see him.

“They aren’t ruled by the crown, they are independent from its laws.”

“Exactly, perhaps your father did send you here without telling you but if he had told you the truth of the night’s watch, you might not have come here. By not telling you, he sent you to the one place in the seven kingdoms where you would be safe from Robert’s wrath.” 

Jon had been wondering for the past several day about why his father had let him come here and yet that was the first time he had thought about the protection the Night’s Watch provides. After learning about the horrific stories about his family’s deaths, maybe the wall was truly the only place safe for Jon. He also thought about all that he had learned since he had been at the wall, especially the threat of the others that was coming. Maybe it was his destiny to be here, to fight them? 

Jon was defeated, exhausted from the thoughts swirling around his mind. “What do I do now?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, I can only give you advice. But if you were to ask me my advice, I would say that you should talk to your father.” Jon opened his mouth to protest that Ned Stark was not his father but didn’t. “Do not tell me that Ned Stark is not your father, because in every way that matters he is. You have questions that only he can answer. Questions not only of your past but of your mother. Talk to him.” Jon went to protest again but before he could get a word out his uncle interrupted him. “Just talk to him.” His uncle was done with the conversation, he gripped the sides of his chair and pulled himself up out of it. He did not say goodnight to Jon, he only walked out the day and onwards to his rooms for the evening. 

Jon sat looking at the fire for several minutes, contemplating everything. When he felt a chill in the air he looked about the room but saw no disturbance. Shaking his head he blew out all of the candles but left the fire smoldering in the fireplace. He went back to his own room for an evening of tossing and turning.

******************************

It had been over a week since Jon had found out the truth about his parents. It had been a long and hard week. Half of the men at the wall hated him for running off with the wildings and the other half were hesitant of his loyalties. Outside he trained and strategized but inside he was a wreck. He tried for days to hate his fath- uncle, to hate him for keeping the secret of his parents from him. He was angry but he didn’t hate him, in fact every time he saw him he wanted to ask about his mother. 

Jon didn’t know anything about his mother, he knew more than he did a month ago but still. He now knew her name and what she kind of looked like, but he still didn’t know anything about her. He tried imagining her, imagining a conversation with her but he didn’t know her. Ned Stark had never talked about his sister, barely let anyone else say anything about her too. Jon knew that the only person who could tell him about her was his uncle.   
After a week Jon was finally ready to speak with his uncle, curiosity had made him anxious. After a day of gathering his courage, he was ready to confront him but he was not in his room, he wasn’t anywhere in the castle. 

Determining that he was on top of the wall, Jon took the elevator up, it was the first time he had been on top of the wall since he had climbed it. He found his uncle hidden in one of the icy nooks, looking out towards the north while he was trying to keep warm next to the fire. 

Ned looked up when he heard Jon, immediately feeling anxious. The man whom he had treated as his son for the last 17 years had barely looked at him the past week. Ned wondered why Jon had come to seek him out, or was he looking to kill him. If he wanted to kill him, he was in the perfect position, on top of the wall next to a very large drop off. He hoped that his son/nephew was not there to kill him, hoping that he was there instead to talk.

Jon stood nervously apart from his uncle, gathering the nerve to ask him about his mother. Finally he just blurted it out. “What was my mother like?” Jon could tell there was pleading in his voice, but he didn’t care.

Ned sighed happily, glad to know that he was there to talk and not to kill, at least not yet. “Lyanna was… brave. She was stubborn and wild. She was like … like Arya. A warrior not meant to be a lady. Our mother died when we all were still very young, she never learned how to be a lady, not that she would have ever wanted to be one. She was beautiful and kind, people loved her. She and Robert would not have suited each other. I had wanted them to get married because Robert was like my brother but he would not have been faithful nor receptive to Lyanna’s wildness. They called her the wild wolf.”

Jon was scared to ask his next question, afraid of the answer. Afraid that his uncle had been lying when he spoke of her attributes. “Do I really look like her?” He wanted to feel connected to her in some way.

Ned chuckled. “Oh yes, you didn’t really when you were growing up but throughout the years you grew more like her. I didn’t quite realize it until I came back to Winterfell after the Greyjoy rebellion and you ran out to greet me, it was like seeing Lyanna again.” It had really been a nasty shock for Ned, had almost scared him to death. It had been like seeing Lyanna from beyond the grave. Even the smile he had had on that day looked like hers. “She was always so strong, so full of life."

“Did you know my father?” Jon was anxious to know of what his adopted father thought about his birth father.

“No, I had never met him. I saw him from far away during the tourney. I only saw him those couple times.” Jon was defeated, he would never know anything about his father. Aemon only knew him through letters but they had been short and none descriptive when he had allowed Jon to read them. “I wish that I could tell you more. I know that he was described as honorable, the honorable Rhaegar. I also heard a rumor that he liked to sing.” Ned smirked at his nephew, knowing that Jon was anything but a singer.

“Sing?” Jon smiled, thinking of a silver haired man with purple eyes, singing to a crowd of dark haired, dark eyed northerners. It was a preposterous thought and yet it brought his solace to uncover one thing about his father. 

“You know the story of how they met, everyone in the seven kingdoms knows that but it wasn’t all the truth. I didn’t know the truth until years after you were born, from a very good friend of your mothers, Howland Reed. You know that we all met at the Tourney at Harenhall and that was true but other events happened as well. Howland was getting bullied by some older men, he was only a boy after all, barely 15 name days. Lyanna was protective of her friends, she dressed up like a knight, the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree, and beat the men in combat.” Jon had heard a story about the mysterious knight that no one knew anything about. It made him proud to learn that it had been his mother under the armor. “Unfortunately she did lose at some point but she had really made her mark on everyone there. Howland told me that Rhaegar had been ordered by his father to find out who the knight was and was shocked when he found out it was Lyanna. He didn’t tell his father, he probably would have had her killed. No one knew about any of this. Apparently the event that started everything was not meant as a slight against his wife but as a recognition of her acts. He crowned her the Queen of love and Beauty for the tourney and no one knew why. When we went home, I remember us trying to get Lyanna to tell us why but she wouldn’t say a thing. I think she told Benjen, they were closer than any of us, but neither Brandon nor I knew. A year went by, the rebellion had started but the Starks were not involved in it until Lyanna disappeared. We thought that maybe Rhaegar had kidnapped her, it was Robert who was convinced that he had raped her. We didn’t know anything and we joined the war to find out. My brother Brandon had gone to request her to be given back to us but he was arrested, my father tried to help him but they both ended up murdered. I wanted my sister back and I wanted revenge for my families’ deaths. At the battle of the Trident, Rhaegar was killed by Robert, but still we did not know where Lyanna was. I went to King’s Landing and I saw the aftermath of the raid, the murdered bodies of his family. I felt such sadness for them, such hatred for those who did that to them. It was while we were there that I heard a rumor of Lyanna being in Dorne, in the Tower of Joy so I took five of my men and we went to the tower. Outside stood two king’s guards, two guards who had not been on the battlefield with Rhaegar. You know this story, I told most of the truth about it. I did find Lyanna up in that tower, dying of a fever but that was not all I found. When I first saw her, she was the only one in the room, she was just lying on the bed. She was so weak, so tired. She had made me promise, ‘Promise me Ned, promise me’, I still hear it every day. The next moment a woman walked into the room with a bundle in her arms and she laid it in my arms and there you were. I was shocked, I wanted Lyanna to tell me the truth but she could barely speak. She whisper to me one last thing, ‘his name is Aegon Targaryen’.” Jon was shocked at learning his true name, shocked because that was what his brother’s name had been as well. “I knew in that moment that she had not been kidnapped, she had had ran away. I assume that they had gotten married and had you. While she died in the bed, you lived in my arms. I couldn’t let you keep the name Aegon, everyone would have known the truth then. So I named you Jon after my own foster father Jon Arryn and I brought you back to Winterfell. I claimed you as my son. When you were young, all you wanted to know was something about your mother.” Ned had tears in his eyes, tears that began to fall like water from a leaking pipe when he continued speaking. “You asked so many questions. I wanted to tell you, but it seemed like a cruel twist of fate that while you asked to know about her, she was lying beneath your feet.” Ned tried to wipe away his tears but they kept coming, Jon had tears in his eyes as well. Thinking about the fact that it was true, all the years of asking about his mother and she had been with him the whole time. “I just thank the gods that you looked like me. If you had looked anything like Rhaegar, you would have been killed in me arms. I would have been killed, Robb and Catelyn would have been killed. You saved us.” Jon thought about the story of his parent’s first meeting, about the even that started the war and about the fact that his parents might have been married. He didn’t know how he felt about maybe not being a bastard. He had been a bastard his whole life. When he had been young he had hated being referred to as the bastard but now he wore it like a coat of armor.

He thought about his aunt, the aunt who had hated him with a burning passion. “Why didn’t you ever tell Lady Stark?” Maybe if she had known that Jon wasn’t Ned’s son she would have been nicer to Jon. 

“Well, when I first brought you home, I didn’t trust her. I had to protect you above everything, the true king. Through the years I could have told her, she wouldn’t have told Robert but I thought that if only I knew, then you were safe from anything. I couldn’t chance your safety.” Jon thought that he understood, maybe if Catelyn had known she would have treated Jon better, suspiciously better. It was known throughout the seven kingdoms how a bastard was to be treated. It could have jeopardized everything. 

Jon had to ask, “Do you think things might have been different if you had?” He himself did wonder if things really would have been different, if anything would have changed. 

“You know I think about that sometimes. But I think that fate brings the truth out when it is meant to be known. I couldn’t break my promise to Lyanna. I promised to always protect you.” 

“Would you take it back if you could?”

“No, because somehow, some way, we were meant to be here, meant to fight this war, this Great War.” Jon agreed with him, the war with the others was coming, it intensified every day. Even at that moment a huge army of wildlings were marching on the war to save themselves from that fate. 

“Why did you let me come to the wall?” It had been a question on his mind ever since he had arrived at Castle Black. A question that had plagued him. Jon thought about what his uncle Aemon had told him, guessed about Ned's choice. Jon was grateful for having grown up with sibling though his own true siblings had been brutally murdered.

“I think the main reason I sent you away was because I wanted you as far away from the temptation of that damn throne. Too many people in our families have died because of it.” His uncle’s answer was short and not at all everything that Jon wanted to know but he accepted it. He understood that reason better than any that he could have given. The iron throne was a blood bash waiting to happen. Hundreds of thousands of people had died because of it, wars were fought over it. It was just a silly piece of metal and yet people treated it like it was a god.

It took Jon several minutes to think of a reply, but when he did it felt right. “I don’t want to be king. I don’t want the fucking throne.” All Jon had ever wanted besides finding out about his mother was to be a ranger in the Night’s Watch like his uncle. It was the only job he could remember wanting. He had never aspired to be anything more than a brother and even now after learning that he was the heir to the throne he still didn’t want it. 

Ned sighed, happy that Jon did not want the throne. It seemed that those who wanted the throne were bloodier than those who didn’t want it. Maybe the right king is one who didn’t want it but was destined to have it. Maybe Jon was worthy of it because he didn’t want it, he was more worthy than anyone one who had sat on it in the last hundred years or so. “I know, but you might be the only one who can save us.” Ned laughed. “Ha, the irony, I sent you away to protect you from your heritage, but it is your heritage that could save us all.” 

“I don’t care if I live or die, I just hope that we survive.” The fact that Jon didn’t care if h died as long as the people survived made Ned proud to be his adopted father. Jon, more than any of his own children had understood what being a true and honorable Stark was about, protecting those who could not protect themselves, even if it meant your death. In that moment Ned silently pledged himself to his nephew, he pledged himself to the true king, the king who was worthy of being called the King of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm.

“When the snows fall and the white winds blow the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the wonderful comments, I know that a lot of you have been super excited to read about the reveal from Ned himself. 
> 
> This chapter was hard to write, hard to get the character's voices right in my head. I tried to put myself in Jon's shoes to try to understand the type of emotions that he must have felt. 
> 
> It might feel a bit quick in some parts but I feel that sometimes you don't need to hear everything in really understand. I think that Jon asks questions about why his father let him go to the wall but after hearing about everything that happened to his family, he might just need to process the information instead of hearing about it. 
> 
> I really do hope you all like it.


	8. Back to King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about a chapter on Gendry and Jamie Lannister?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been a while since I have updated and I'm sorry about that. I had a lot going on with finals, a death in my family and a very stressful first half of my last semester as a college student.

It had taken many weeks for Gendry to row them to King’s Landing. Jamie had tried with his one hand to row one side and Gendry the other but it was not as productive. They didn’t speak much during the days and they tried to sleep for a few hours at night. Mostly Gendry kept watch on the horizon, afraid that he would see a ship and the red witch would be on it, ready to burn him alive.

They landed a few miles from King’s Landing, where no one would see them get off the small boat. There would still be day or two’s walk from the city, but they thought it was safer to land farther away.

It felt great to stand on firm ground again, though they both were sick upon reaching the land. It took several hours for them to adjust. That night, neither could sleep well, having gotten used to the rocking of the dingy.

They had run out of food and water about two days before they reached shore so the first thing they did was find some sort of food and drink. Luckily they landed near a small river that held fresh water and near bushes with fruit on them. They didn’t walk far that night, maybe barely a mile for exhaustion.

During the night Jamie was keeping watch as Gendry tried to get a few hours’ sleep. He heard a branch crack in the distance, Jamie was afraid it was wolves, coming to eat them. Jamie went to investigate, about 1/4th of a mile away he saw smoke and a small fire. When he crept closer he could make out a man in armor next to the fire and a horse grazing nearby.

Jamie didn’t recognize the man, with his short blonde hair and large size. He tried to creep closer but he had accidently stepped on a branch. He froze as the man jumped up, with his hand on his sword, looking wildly about. “Whose there?” The man, who oddly sounded like a woman, spoke confidently. “Show yourself.”

Jamie didn’t move and after a few minutes he accidently met the eyes of the man/woman. The man/woman hesitated before sheathing his/her sword. He/she stepped forwards near Jamie and now that he/she was closer he could make out that it was in fact a woman. A very tall and muscular woman.

“I won’t hurt you.” She said but her hand was on her sword. The message was clear, she wouldn’t hurt him as long as he didn’t attempt to hurt her. Jamie stepped out from the shadows and into the faint firelight, but he could tell the moment the woman recognized him. It was the moment she unsheathed her sword again and pointed it directly at him. “What is Jamie Lannister doing in the woods?”

“Would you believe that I had been imprisoned and I escaped and am on my way back to King’s Landing?” Jamie held up his arms in surrender, but he didn’t not miss the look she gave at realizing he had only one hand.

“No.” She didn’t move her sword an inch but he could tall that her eyes had swept over his body, searching for weapons.

“It’s true. I’m actually traveling with another, he is sleeping a ways away from here. We were imprisoned together.” Jamie motioned his remaining hand towards he direction that Gendry was sleeping. “We mean you no harm, not that we could do anything, we have no weapons.”

Understanding that he was no threat to her, she sheathed her sword again and Jamie dropped his arms. “A companion?”

“Yes, we were taking turns sleeping while the other kept watch.”

“Where is he?” She didn’t trust Jamie and he admired that, only a stupid person would trust a crazy one handed man in the woods.

“He’s not far, his name is Gendry.” He didn’t know why he told this woman Gendry’s name, he just felt like he could tell her anything. It was a feeling he got from her, though he didn’t understand it. Jamie shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts. “I can go get him so you know we mean you no harm.”

The woman shook her head no. She then quickly put out her fire and saddled her horse, quickly mounting it. “I will go with you. Know that if you betray my trust, I will kill you, Kingslayer.” The woman followed him but her horse stepped quickly and Jamie ended up nearly jogging to keep ahead of it.

“Now who exactly are you?” Jamie called behind him as he trotted. He was curious to know about a woman taller than him who wielded a sword. He had been in prison for a long period of time, but not nearly long enough for things to have changed that much.

“It is none of your concern Kingslayer.”

Suddenly he remembered hearing about a large woman from the Storm Lands. She had been a sworn sword to Renly Baratheon. “Well your size is impressive, any woman that size would be noticed anywhere in the Kingdom. But paired with your armor, sword and blue eyes, I would say you are Lady Brienne of Tarth.” He turned his hand enough to see her reaction at his correct assessment. She did not look pleased to have her identity found out so quickly.

“So what if I am?” She suddenly stated, stopping her horse in a small clearing. They were only a few yards from where Gendry lay.

“Nothing, I just think it is interesting to meet a woman who had sworn her sword to Renly Baratheon wearing Stark colors.” He had noticed her cape the moment he saw her, it was a dark grey and the pins attaching it to her armor held little dire wolf clasps. Her face turned red at his statement, like she was embarrassed.

“I am sworn to the Starks now.” Though she had heard that they had been two days after she had left them at the Twins. Murdered at Robb Starks wedding. She had been heartbroken to hear that, she had almost turned around to exact revenge for them when she decided that it was more important to save Lady Sansa and Lady Arya instead, so she had continued. “Renly Baratheon is dead.” Her statement was final, not encouraging any questions or comments.

A stick snapped from over where Gendry had been, alerting them that Jamie’s companion was awake and moving around. “The Starks?” Gendry came out of the shadows and stood underneath a shat of moonlight allowed through the leaves. “You are sworn to the Starks?” He asked again.

Jamie was confused, in all of their time together, he had never heard Gendry mention anything about the Starks. “What do you know about the Starks”, the tall woman asked, wary of the young man who had come out of the woods.

“I knew one of them, we were/are friends. We were traveling together to the wall before we were separated.” Gendry looked embarrassed, his face was bright red and he shifted on his feet quite a bit as far as Jamie could tell.

“That’s impossible, the only Starks this far south are held as hostages to the crown.” Brienne of Tarth stated harshly. She did not appreciate hearing that someone was impersonating one of her future charges.

“I did know one, she was Arya Stark.” Jamie was shocked, how had a bastard son of Robert Baratheon, a blacksmith, met the youngest daughter of Ned Stark?

“Arya Stark? Prove it.” Brienne was worried, if Arya had escaped King’s Landing and this boy had traveled with Arya and now he traveled with Jamie Lannister, did that mean that Arya had been recaptured by the Lannisters? She unsheathed her sword yet again and pointed it towards Gendry.

Gendry shook his head, trying to remember something distinctive about Arya, something that would prove that he did know her. “She was short, had dark brown hair. She dressed as a boy. She had a short, sharp sword that she called Needle, she said that her brother gave it to her before he left for the wall.” Jamie had though that Gendry had been crazy but hearing the comment about her sword, he remembered meeting Ned’s bastard who had commissioned a sword like that before he had left for the wall. Jamie knew that Gendry did in fact know Arya Stark. “Her father was Lord Eddard Stark and she had a brother Robb.” Gendry was flustered, he hoped that he had said enough about her, to prove that he did now her.

It seemed to have convinced Brienne as she sheathed her sword, yet again. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know, we were separated. I was bought by a woman dressed in Red from the Brotherhood without Banners.” Jamie could see that Gendry had cared for the girl as it was the most emotion he had heard in his voice, since they met.

“Where is Sansa Stark?”

“I don’t know, I would think that she is in King’s Landing.” Gendry said.

“That is where I am heading now. I assume that is where you all are heading as well.” She didn’t wait for them to answer her as she dismounted from her horse. She stood an inch above the Kingslayer and several above the boy. “We can travel together tomorrow.” She went about to gather branches and dry wood to make a fire.

The next morning they all traveled together, Brienne on her horse while Gendry and Jamie walked along side. It took them several hours to reach the outskirts of King’s Landing. At the gate there was so much confusion about Jamie that Gendry quietly slipped through and faded into the crowds. Brienne was confused about why the boy had abandoned them, but forgot about him when king’s guards came riding up to escort Jamie to the keep.

Several days after they had come back Jamie made his way to the steel street where he assumed Gendry would have gone. Jamie had reconciled with his sister, brother and father, though only his brother was truly glad to see him again. His father had had a hand made for him out of iron and gold, but it was very heavy.

He was having a hard time trying to get himself back into his former life. He had spent so long imprisoned, so much time to think back on his failures and shortcomings. For years he had slid by on his reputation for being the Kingslayer and his prowess as a swordsman but now without his sword hand, he felt like he didn’t know who he was.

He was once again dressed in the finest clothes, fully bathed and shaved. In the mirror he saw himself but it was a person he didn’t know. A man broken and shattered. It had taken a few days to realize his next steps, to gain a bit of himself back, a man he had been before he had become the Kingslayer.

Jamie checked in every metal shop he came across, not seeing Gendry. He had almost given up when he reached the last. At first glance it looked like all the others, an older man hammering steel though he was tried and weak, a strange combination for a blacksmith. No one else was in the shop so Jamie thought that he was only wasting his time but before he left a man walked in from the back. It was Gendry, dirty and tired but happier than Jamie had ever seen except the moment they had escaped.

Gendry froze when he spotted Jamie, unsure how he should treat him. He decided it would be best to pretend that they did not know each other. “Can I help you, Ser Jamie Lannister?” Gendry wiped his hands on his apron as he spoke to his former friend. He spoke clearly and semi loudly but the man kept hammering away.

Jamie knew what Gendry had in mind, knowing that they could not talk like they knew each other as it would be extremely dangerous. No one can know they know each other, if they did it would only be too easy to connect that Gendry was Robert’s bastard and Cersei would kill him if she found out. “Yes, I am in need of a sword.” Jamie examined the several that were lying about, picking each up in his hand and weighing them.

“A sword, my lord?” Gendry was confused, Jamie probably had plenty of swords and he doubted that if he really needed one he would come himself.

“Yes, I find that my tastes have changed recently.” He held up his hand that now held the iron and gold hand. “Can you make a specific left handed sword?”

“Of course, my lord.” Gendry took down Jamie’s measurements as he wanted to fit the sword for the man. At the end Jamie handed over a small bag jingling with coins, but as he dropped the bag into Gendry’s hand, he slipped a note in as well. From the sound of the coins Gendry could tell that he had overpaid for the sword, so Gendry silently decided that he would make the best sword of his career for his friend.

“How long would it take?” Jamie tried to indicate with his head the importance of the note by jerking it sharply towards his hand. Gendry must have gotten the message because he stuck the note into his pocket.

“A few days at most, ser.”

“Excellent, I look forward to it.” With that and a last look at Gendry he slipped from the steaming forge.

Gendry hurried into the back and slipped the note from his pocket. He could read a bit but not very well, Arya had begun teaching him. He could make out most of the words in the note, but missed some.

_Gendry,_

_We cannot be seen together as it would be very dangerous for you. To pay you back for helping me escape, I can teach you how to fight. Let me know when I come to pick up the sword._

_Jamie_

_P.S. Destroy this note when you are finished._

Gendry understood that he and Jamie could not speak friendly, but he didn’t understand why Jamie would teach him how to fight. Confused he decided to wait until Jamie came to pick up his sword. Figuring that it would be dangerous if someone were to uncover the note, he decided to burn it. He tossed it into the fire as he came back into the forge and begun work on Jamie’s new sword.

Jamie had gotten Brienne into the Palace but had not had a chance to do much but tell her to wait for him to come back and to take off her Stark cloak. Brienne walked about her chamber for hours until Jamie came back, holding a simple tunic, breeches and vest that were not in black or grey. She understood that in this place, it could be dangerous to flounce her position with the Starks. She changed into the clothes, but kept her own tucked away till it as needed again.

Jamie introduced her to the King’s guard and the household guard, letting them know that she was not a threat and was here at his invitation as his savior. He mushed over his escape and made it seem that Brienne had saved him and in return was returning the favor.

A few days after she had come to the palace, she finally met Lady Sansa in the gardens. She was extremely sad, having heard about her brother and mother. As she was now married to Lord Tyrion Lannister, she could not openly show the favor of her house. Lady Sansa was sitting by herself in an outlook over the bay when Brienne came up to her.

Brienne knelt as soon as she met her gaze. “Forgive me my lady, I do not mean to intrude.” She stood back up quickly.

“It’s fine, Lady - ?”

“Brienne of Tarth.”

“Can I help you my lady?” Lady Sansa asked curiously and suspiciously.

“I just wished to meet you my lady.” Brienne quickly looked around to see that no one was watching them nor around them. “I am a sworn sword of the House Stark. Your mother sent me to guard you.” Brienne didn’t dare speak of the other task her lady had tasked her with, getting Lady Sansa away from King’s Landing. Lady Sansa looked up with hope in her eyes at the mention of her mother before she remembered that her mother was now dead.

Sansa’s face grew read with anger, “I do not appreciate having my families’ misfortunes thrown back into my face. Have I not been tortured enough?” Sansa stood from her place and stormed away.

Brienne froze, not knowing how to proceed, Lady Sansa had stormed passed her but before she got too far, Brienne reached out and snagged her arm. “Wait, I’m sorry my lady, I am not trying to jest with you. I am a sworn sword to your mother and your brother, Robb.” Brienne pleaded with her eyes to Sansa, praying that she believed her.

“As you have probably heard, my mother and brother are dead. My brother became enraged and tried to kill everyone before he was killed.” Sansa spoke with no hint of emotion in face but the hint of a tremor in her voice betrayed it. She couldn’t believe that her brother would just go crazy and kill everyone at his own wedding. She didn’t believe it, what probably happened was that the Lannisters wanted to kill her family and ordered the Freys to attempt an alliance but then betray them, though she could never prove it.

“Unfortunately I did hear that my lady, I traveled with them from Winterfell, we parted ways at the Twins, when I continued towards King’s Landing. I heard the day after it happened, I was three days from the Twins, I almost turned around to exact revenge but then I decided that your life was in greater danger so I came her to protect you.”

“Why would you be a sworn sword to my family? Tarth is in the Storm Lands, nowhere near the north.”

“Your brother saved my life, I swore my life to protect his and your families after that.”

“Why are you in King’s Landing?” Lady Sansa’s eyes betrayed her calm face, they implored to Brienne the extent of her questioning gaze. Silently she wondered the actual reason Brienne was there.

Brienne looked around once again, seeing a few people yards away not paying attention to them but Brienne knew better. She knew that there were always ears in King’s Landing, no secret was safe. She gestured with her hand to Sansa, to lead the way to a more secure environment. They didn’t speak as they walked to a cliff overlooking the bay. There were many steps leading down to a private location. Once there Brienne spoke quietly, not wanting to risk speaking louder. “Your mother tasked me with bringing you home.” Brienne looked in Sansa’s eyes, seeing hope in them once more before sadness took over.

“I thank you, Lady Brienne of Tarth, but I will never leave King’s Landing.” Sansa was resigned to her fate, though all she dreamed of was going home.

“My lady- “

Sansa cut her off. “I have accepted my fate.” Sansa turned on her heel and left Brienne in her wake. Not accepting any further interruptions.

Brienne was confused and unsure what to do next. She had been sure that Lady Sansa would have wanted to go home but now she was confused. She decided that she would stay in King’s Landing and protect Lady Sansa until she wanted to go home.

****************************

A few days after Jamie had last visited Gendry, he once again entered the forge where he worked. It was quite early in the morning, barely after sunrise. Jamie worried that it would be too early but it was known that Blacksmiths worked odd hours and some worked early in the morning before it was too hot in the city.

He saw Gendry alone in the forge, hammering away at a piece of iron. Jamie didn’t want to spook him in case he hurt himself so he waited until he was not about to hit the iron. “Gendry.” Jamie tried to speak quietly, but he had to speak loudly enough so Gendry could hear him.

Gendry looked up, paused in his work. He stepped away from his work, grabbing a sword from a nearby table and handing it to Jamie. The sword was wrapped in cloth to protect it from the ash and smoke in the forge. Jamie unwrapped it, examining it closely. It was a beautiful sword, not too heavy nor too light. The handle was inlaid with gold in a swirling pattern towards the hilt. Jamie swung the sword in an arc, felling the balance in the sword, knowing that Gendry was an excellent blacksmith. “Excellent. The balance is perfect.”

Gendry smiled, happy with the praise. He hadn’t slept much in the past few days, working tirelessly on Jamie’s sword. “I’m glad that you like it.”

Jamie sheathed the sword in the empty scabbard he had attached to his waist. “Where is the other man?” He asked curiously, consciously keeping an aura of disinterest in place in case someone overheard them.

“He is sleeping.” Gendry stated but he shook his head towards the back room as if indicating that the man was sleeping in the back room. Jamie nodded as he understood, keeping his interest to himself.

“Was the work sufficient?” Jamie asked but he hoped that Gendry understood the underlying message. _Did you read my note?_

Gendry understood, “It was, ser.”

“Great. Do you believe that the sword will work for me?” _Do you want me to teach you how to fight?_

“I do, ser.” Gendry smiled at him, indicating that he would like to learn how to fight.

“Excellent, well, nice work, thank you.” Jamie made a show of leaving but before he left he shook Gendry’s hand as if in thanks but was a way to secretly handing him another note. Jamie left but not before giving Gendry a last pointed look.

Once Jamie had left, Gendry stood next to the fire to read the next note.

_We will meet tomorrow morning before sunrise down by the wharf, a man in black will meet you there, his name is Bronn._

Gendry memorized the note and then threw it into the fire like the last note. He was happy, he was going to learn how to fight from a real swordsman. Maybe in a few years he could leave King’s Landing and find work as a swordsman instead of a blacksmith.

The next morning Gendry met a tall, gruff man by the wharf that did not look happy to be there. The man didn’t speak to him, he only started off down the wharf, walking away from the town. They walked for a ways before they were far from the town and the castle, down steps and onto a flat plateau next to the water of the bay. Jamie was there with two wooden swords. The man left them as soon as he brought Gendry, heading back towards the castle.

When Gendry got back to the forge an hour later he was exhausted and sore. He had held plenty of swords before but he had never practice like that. He now held a new appreciation for Arya’s skill and the little sword her brother had had made for her. Jamie had started with the basics and worked up from there. They had agreed to practice together one a week, giving Gendry time to practice what he learned on his own.

It was much different than anything he had done before and he relished in that. Growing up his blood had sang whenever he held a sword, he had always that it was the smithing of it that sang to him but now after learning who his father was, he know knew that it was the power of the swords that sang to him.

It was almost a month later as Jamie and Bronn were practicing, that Bronn kept asking questions about Gendry. He had been pestering him for weeks. Who he was, how they met and others. Jamie didn’t want to tell Bronn the truth as he was protecting the secret of his true father. Jamie knew that Bronn was a sellsword who had some sort of friendship with his brother, but still only a sellsword.

“So who is the boy?” Bronn had witnessed a few of their sparing matches, giving advice to the smith. He had accessed the kids skill

“What? Its Gendry, the blacksmith.”

“No shit.” Bronn stared at him like he was stupid. “You said you met him when you were imprisoned by the Baratheon brother. How? Why?”

“Why do you care? Did you tell my brother?” Jamie looked apprehensive about the answer but sighed when Bronn shock his head no. He trusted Tyrion and he knew that he wouldn’t tell anyone but he wanted as few as people as possible to know the truth. “We escaped together.”

“Why? Why was he imprisoned?”

“Well, he, ah…..ah-“Jamie didn’t quite know how much to reveal.

Bronn grew tired of waiting for Jamie to explain, he knew why, he just wanted to make him sweat a bit. “Because he’s the Bastard son of the fat king?” Bronn took satisfaction at the look on Jamie’s face, he was extremely shocked.

“What? Why would you think that?” Jamie glanced around as if he was expected invisible people to pop out and name him traitor.

“Do you think me stupid? He looks more like the man than those kids of the Queen.” Bronn saw Jamie’s face go red with shame. He knew that those kids were the one handed man, it was clear to see. If not anyone could see it then the rumors sure brought light onto the subject.

“You can’t tell anyone about him.”

“I know that, I wouldn’t do it anyway, he’s a good lad. Strong fighter. I assume his uncle found out and wanted to kill him.” As a sellsword, Bronn had seen a lot of horrible things, had done quite a few as well. He was no stranger to the intricates of high born people’s fears of illegitimate children, especially sons.

“Yeah. But not before his red witch took Gendry’s blood for some kind of spell or something.”

A few days after Bronn guessed Gendry’s true parentage, he realized that something was off with Gendry’s sparing technique. He was so strong that it was getting difficult for even Bronn to stop his thrusts. He needed something special, perhaps a war hammer. He had the strength to wield it and the family history to back it up. He decided to broach the topic with the boy. “Have you even tried a hammer?”

At the question, Gendry stared at him like he was stupid. Of course he had wielded a hammer, he was a smith. “Yes.”

“A war hammer?”

“No.”

“You might want to try it, you might be good with it. You are strong, probably your years of hammering iron and steel.”

 


	9. A fight beyond the wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and his band of friends go beyond the wall to kill the mutineers. This follows almost exactly like what happens in season 4, episode 5 First of his Name.

Jon hadn’t forgiven his father/uncle just yet, he didn’t think that he ever could. He still wondered why he was allowed to go to the wall without knowledge. Though he was somewhat glad that he had, otherwise no one would have been able to find out the plan of the wildlings. 

Jon knew that he had broken his vows, he had killed one of his brothers and he had laid with a girl. He had known the consequences of all of his action, the lies he had told. He wished he could go back and change the event but if he had, he never would have figured out that the wildlings were marching on the wall.

He was in the courtyard training with his father when the gate opened and a young boy stumbled through. Jon immediately went to him and bent his knee, knowing that he was boy from south of the wall and not from the north. “They killed my parents. All of our people.” The boy had tears running down his face and he was breathing fast. Jon placed his hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. 

His father came to stand behind his shoulder as did other men. “Who?”

“Wildlings.” The boy said and Jon’s blood ran cold. His brothers behind him started whispering amongst themselves. Jon caught sayings of death and we have to do something. Jon nodded towards one of the younger stewards, silently telling them to go get Ser Alliser, the acting lord commander.

Jon led the boy into the dining hall where he poured him a mug of water. It was minutes later that all of the men gathered in the hall to talk about the attack. They had the boy, Olly, reiterate the attack, though he started crying when he talked about his parents. Jon kept his hand on Olly’s shoulder, silently encouraging him but also supporting him. He reminded him so much of Bran and Rickon, that he felt he had to save this boy for them. 

“We need to teach them a lesson about the way we deal with their kind.” One of the brothers said while others were agreeing with him. “Three dozen bodies with slit throats tossed off the top of the Wall. Seems like that would be a good lesson.”

“If we go after them, we'll be giving them what they want. They want to draw us out, pick us off a few at a time.” Ser Alliser exclaimed, making a good point. Putting some thought back into the room full of men who wanted Wildling blood. 

“We have just over 100 men and that's including stewards and builders. And me. We can't afford to lose a single man. We must remember our first responsibility. We are the watchers on the Wall.” Jon’s uncle stated. The men all took the vows, they knew what their job was, but a band of wildlings attacking south of the wall. What were they supposed to do, not protect them? What if more came over the wall? Jon knew that were stuck in a hard place. They had a very limited amount of men to complete the amount of work needed for at least three times the amount of men they had. 

“There's got to be a way to protect them.” Everyone looked to Pyp as he started talking. Exclaiming a point that everyone was thinking. 

Ser Alliser looked at Pyp and spoke towards him but directed it towards Jon. “You're a champion of the common people, Lord Snow. What do you say to Brother Pyp's proposition?” Ser Alliser asked.

Jon took his hand off the boy’s shoulder and propped them on the handle of his sword. A natural position for him to stand in. Jon looked at the men around him, all looking at him, silently meeting the eyes of his father for a few moments and then continuing on. “Mance Rayder is coming. If the wildlings breach the Wall, they'll roll over everything and everyone for 1,000 miles before they reach an army that can stop them.” The men agreed but hung their heads defeated. There was simply not enough men. Even Ser Alliser accepted Jon’s knowledge on the fact. 

“We need to shore up Castle Black and we need to defend the Wall. That is our job.” Ser Alliser commanded, rallying his men into defending their home. Suddenly the horn blew and they all froze, counting the blows, silently hoping that it was only one. Only one blew and everyone relaxed a bit.   
The men started to get up while Pyp said the obvious. “Rangers returning.” The men all hurried out of the doors, Jon left Olly to stay in the dining hall. 

The doors to the passage underneath the wall opened and several men grabbed torches to see who was returning. They all saw a man supporting another man and ran to help, “Help him.” 

It was Edd and Grenn. Jon went to help his friend Edd, supporting his weight. “Thought you'd have blue eyes by now.” Edd tried to make a joke. Jon was so happy to see his friends again, he had been greatly saddened when h had heard none but Sam had come back. The courtyard was bustling, men grabbing swords and spear, readying themselves for an attack.

Ser Alliser walked up to them “What took you so long?” He demanded. All of the men gathered around their two returned brothers. 

“We were held up.” Grenn said.

“By what?”

“Chains.” Grenn brought up his hand to show them the marks on his wrist. Edd continued behind Grenn. “We were guests of the mutineers at Craster's Keep.”

Jon stood in front of his friend, keeping his head close to his friends, anxious to know everything. “And the mutineers stayed?”

Grenn continued speaking, grasping his arms around himself, trying to keep as much heat inside his torso as possible. “They're not going anywhere. They've got Craster's food and his wives. Poor girls.” Jon walked away from them thinking about the implications they were implying. “Never thought they'd miss their daddy. Karl's running things now. He's the one who put a knife through Craster's mouth.”

Jon came back to the group, his mind made up. If those men were caught by the wildlings, they could tell them everything. “We need to ride north and kill them all.”

“We just went over this, boy. Justice can wait.” Ser Alliser spoke. 

“It's not about justice.” Jon knew his mistake at once, his brother looked at him like he was crazy. Jon continued, “I told the wildlings we had over 1000 men at Castle Black alone. Karl and the others know the truth as well as we do. How long do you think they'll keep that information to themselves when the wildlings are peeling their fingernails off? Mance has all he needs to crush us, he just doesn't know it yet. As soon as he gets his hands on them, he will. Then he'll throw his full strength at us. And even if every one of us kills 100 wildlings, there's still not a thing we can do to stop them.” Jon spoke to the men but he directed it to Alliser. It was the first time that Jon had ever seen him even slightly scared.

To break the tension, Pyp spoke. Jon thought that he meant to keep it to himself but accidently spoke aloud. “I don't think I can kill 100 wildlings.”

*****************************

Jon was brought before Ser Alliser while he was eating lunch, while most of the brothers were eating. “Your foray to Craster's Keep, I'll sanction it. But I won't order anyone to go with you. Volunteers only.” Jon was ecstatic, finally he could go back beyond the wall and get revenge for the death of their Lord Commander. 

Jon hoped that a few of the men would want to also get revenge for their commander, but they also needed to make sure that the lies Jon had told Mance were kept. Jon couldn’t afford letting the wildings find the mutineers, then Jon’s time with the wildings would have been for naught. “Thank you, Ser Alliser.” Jon stood before his brothers, nervous to ask them to follow him. His father was watching from the corner and Jon drew strength from his silent support. “Ahem, brothers. I'm going beyond the Wall to Craster's Keep. I'm going to capture the mutineers holed up there or kill them. I'm asking for volunteers to come with me. There's 60 miles of wilderness between here and Craster's and Mance Rayder has an army bearing down on us, but we have to do this. Our survival may depend on us getting to these mutineers before Mance does. They know the Wall. They know our defenses. If Mance learns what they know, we're lost. But if that's not enough, then consider this. If the Night's Watch are truly brothers, then Lord Commander Mormont was our father. He lived and died for the Watch and he was betrayed by his own men. Stabbed in the back by cowards. He deserved far better. All we can give him now is justice. Who will join me?” For several minutes only silence rained down, Jon was afraid that no one would volunteer. He couldn’t be the only one to go, he would never accomplish the mission by himself. Grenn was the first to stand up, followed by Edd and then a few more stood, his father among them. “Thank you brothers.” 

 

For the past several weeks Ned had been having terribly vivid dreams, only they didn’t feel like dreams they felt like visions. Maybe even visions from a previous life. He saw Jon lying on the ground, surrounded by snow, bleeding. He saw Jon dead on a table and he saw Jon rise again. He saw his son come back from the dead but he didn’t know how or why or even if it was real. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of his son dying but the dreams frightened him. Always the last part of the dream was Jon leading an army of men into battle. Ned wanted to believe that his dreams were trying to tell him something. 

They had started the night Jon had come back, shot full of arrows dead. It had frightened Ned to the point when he had woken up violently that first night after seeing Jon dead in his dream to seeing him sleeping peacefully on his bed. As the nights went on the dreams increased until finally the battle scene. That had been the last for weeks.

Now he followed Jon everywhere, always watching his back. He was anxious, waiting to see if his dreams were prophesies or just his nightmares. He know rode with Jon on the way to Craster’s keep to help. 

He rode besides his son, “You know you will be having lessons again.”

His father’s words brought him up and he stopped his horse, effective stilling the party. “What? Why?” Lessons, he hadn’t had lessons since before he had come to the wall. Sure he had learned how to read and write, he had actually loved to read the stories of the histories, but he had stopped a few years ago. While Robb continued learning how to be a lord one day, Jon spent his time training, gradually getting better than his brother in the sword. 

“You need to learn how to be a king.”

“I’m not going to be king, I don’t want to be. I am a man of the night’s watch.”

“Now. Who knows what the future will bring. Alright then, don’t do it if you were to be King, do it to learn how to be a better leader. I could see you as Lord Commander one day.” 

"I am only a bastard or that is what everyone will see."

"Let me tell you what they’ll see. They would see a man who knows what it’s like to be poor and downtrodden. They will see a ma that can understand them, that would fight for them, that would give up his life for them. You are a warrior but you are also a good man who only wants what’s best for his people. That is a man people will fight for, a man that will put their trust in. You were born for this, you have the blood but also have the heart.”

"You really think that people will follow me?"

"Yes, yes I do.”

When they were within a mile of Crasters place they stopped and Jon sent Edd along ahead of everyone to scout out the place. They settled around a thicket of trees, each getting ready for a fight in their own way. Jon paced around the sight, going over every detail her remembered of Crasters. When Edd came back, they were ready to fight, the sun was setting. They wanted to sneak up on the men so they wouldn’t be ready for a fight.

When the sun was down they attacked, Jon running in ahead of everyone. They each attacked a different part of the keep, trying to draw out the survivors. They fought against their brothers, against men they had sworn to fight besides, not against. 

Jon kept himself focused, not dwelling on the fact that he was again killing one of his brothers. He danced around, his sword swinging left and right. He knew he was the best fighter here except maybe for his father but there were more of them and they were sure to come after him.

Crasters wives ran from the fighting, fleeing into the forest but not going too far in case of white walkers. 

Jon could see his brother fighting around him, his real brothers, they ones that her followed him. He could see Grenn and Edd and in the distance he could see his father holding his own. 

It wasn’t the first time he had killed someone but it was his first real taste of battle. Living with the wildlings had taught him to think on his feet, to be fluid and unpredictable, a valuable lesson that he relished. 

Inside Crasters main keep Jon found Karl Tanner, the man who had killed Lord Commander Mormont alone. They squared off around the fire in the center of the room. He bowed in front of Jon, taunting him. “Lord Snow. Are you bringing me back for trial?” Tanner rose his knives, preparing to fight. Jon waved his sword in his hand, the blood on it glinting in the firelight. “We had a good thing here. We were free men. You'll never be free. You'll never know what that's like.” And the battle began, they swung at each other at the same time, Jon with his sword and Tanner with his knives. 

Tanner was stronger than him and crazier. He kept pushing back Jon, knocking him into the wooden beams supporting the keep. “You learn how to fight in a castle?” At the next meeting, Tanner swirled his blades and in seconds had plunged one of his knives in Jon’s thigh. “Some old man teach you how to stand, how to parry?” Jon swung at him, his one sword meeting with the two smaller knives. “How to fight with honor? You know what's wrong with honor?” As their blades caught together, Tanner spit on him. “You.” Tanner had him on his back, his sword inches away from his hand but it was caught under Tanner’s boot. Jon was sure he was about to die. As he brought his hand up to make the killing blow a weapon plunged into his back. As Tanner tuned around Jon caught a look at his savior, one of Crasters wives, Jon didn’t know her name but he could have kissed her at that moment. Tanner pulled the knife from his back and advance on the woman, Jon leapt up to protect her and to kill Karl Tanner. Jon plunged his sword into the back of Tanners skull, the blade coming out through his mouth. 

Jon knelt down next to the woman, to make sure she was okay. “Are you all right?” They both looked at the man who had terrorized Crasters wives and who had killed the Lord Commander. “Come with me. Come on.” Jon slowly got the woman up and moved with her to the entrance.

The last mutineers were being killed as they walked out. Jon could see his father heaving near one of the torches, dirt covering his face. The men had already started to congregate the dead bodies in the center of the inner wall, making a mound to torch. The woman who had saved Jon and who Jon had saved in return ran to her sisters when she saw them. “We lost four brothers?” Jon was upset to know that some of his brothers had died, men who had followed him. “I count 10 dead mutineers.” 

He silently asked Edd, who had scouted the keep, “I saw 11 of them. Where's Rast?”

They were cleaning their sword and picking up various weapons around the keep when movement caught Jon’s attention.

Jon turned around, not expecting to see the one thing he had been dreaming about for month. His snowy white, ruby eyed best friend, Ghost. Jon was so happy to see him. “Where in seven hells? Come here.” Everyone but Ned stepped back away from wolf, Jon bending down on one knee to embrace his wolf. Jon caught Ned’s eyes for a moment, happiness leaking from them as it did from Jon’s. “I missed you, boy.” Jon looked deep into his wolf’s eyes, a parade of images flowing back and forth between the two of them that lasted seconds. 

Edd pointed to the group of women that had come from their hiding spot beyond the trees. What should we do with this lot? Jon stood to address the women, silently pleading with them to believe him. “It's not safe for you here on your own. Mance Rayder has an army heading this way and there's worse out there than Mance. Come with us to Castle Black. We can find you work. Keep you safe.”  
Jon offered to help them come to Castle Black but they refused. Jon was shocked, not believing that they would want to stay in a place where they had been beaten and worse, but the woman said to burn it. They did. 

They watched the keep burn, in the center was the mound of dead bodies. The women had tears in their eyes, Jon could imagine it was hard for them, to see their home, no matter how bad it was, go up in flames. 

Jon could feel the heat from the flames and thought about his true parentage. His father, the last dragon. He imagined that he stood before a dragon, a great fire breathing dragon. He wished he could reach out his hand and touch it but then remembered the scars on his palm, the burn marks. He was no dragon, he could burn.


	10. Before the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter of the days before the battle at castle black.

Jon didn’t know what he expected when they returned from beyond the wall, congratulations or nothing? Turns out he didn’t need to think about it much. The first thing that Allister said to him was that it wasn’t a place for wild beasts, looking at Jon but talking about Ghost. He took him to his room, ghost obeyed but Jon could feel that he was not happy. Jon reluctantly left Ghost there and heading back to the dining hall for a meeting of the brothers.

When he got to the dining hall, his friends and his uncle were sitting near the back, with an empty space for him saved. He was asked to speak about his foray. 

“Mance's army was closing in on Craster's Keep when we left. We saw their campfires from Osric's Hill. They'll reach the Wall before the next full moon.” He stated cleanly, imploring that his brothers finally listen to him about his knowledge of the wildlings.

“I'm surprised you didn't ride over and say hello. The King-beyond-the-Wall is your old friend, isn't he?” Jon wanted to bite back that this was not a joking manner, that the wildlings weren’t just going to give up. 

“We need to prepare.” 

“We've been preparing,” Jon knew that the castle was slowly arming itself but it wasn’t going fast enough. 

“We should seal the tunnel. Plug it with rocks and ice. Flood it and let it freeze.” Most of the men began murmuring as Jon’s statement, not believing that he was suggesting what he was.

“And how would we range north?”

“We wouldn't.” He knew what it would mean to seal the gate, but right now it was either they all die or they live and someday they can somehow find another tunnel.

Allister scoffed at that. “Coward. You would cut off our legs, pluck out our eyes, leave us cowering behind the Wall hoping for the storm to pass?” 

Jon shook his head, not a coward, only stating the obvious. “We can't defend the gate against 100,000 men.” 

“This castle has stood for thousands of years. The Night's Watch has defended her for thousands of years. And in all those centuries, we have never sealed the tunnel.” These men were delusional, how could less than a thousand men defend against 100,000 men that could climb the wall. Jon knew that only a certain percentage of the wildling population could climb the wall, but if they go through the gate, then anyone could get through. 

“Have you ever seen a giant, Ser Alliser?” He didn’t wait before speaking again, knowing that no one in Castle Black had. “I have.” 

“The bars on those gates are four inches thick. Cold-rolled steel.” 

“They won't stop them.” 

“Remind me which order you belong to, Lord Snow.” At that a small number of the men snickered, enjoying watching Jon get put in his place.

He nearly chocked on the words he had to speak. “The stewards.” 

“Are the stewards responsible for maintaining the tunnel?”

“No.”

“Who would that be?”

“The builders.” 

“Ah, the builders. First Builder Yarwyck, Lord Snow here recommends sealing the tunnel, leaving us unable to carry out our duties as sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. Do you agree with him?” Jon looked hopefully towards the first builder but knew that Yarwyck would not agree with him. No one would. 

“No.” 

“Given your deep knowledge of the wildling army, Lord Snow, you and your father will take night duties atop the Wall until the full moon.” Jon didn’t hear anything else Allister said after that, he just sat down and waited until the meeting was over, defeated. 

 

Even after wildlings sacked Mole’s Town Allister and his cronies refused to believe what Jon had told them. Some of the men believed Jon but they didn’t want too as well. The men were scared and outnumbered a thousand to one, they didn’t want to die as the men who couldn’t hold the wall. The trained ad trained, gathered supplies and sent out pleas for more soldiers to many of the northern houses, but got no replies.

They were sitting ducks at Castle Black, with not enough men to guard it, rebuild it and defend it. They could go nowhere, they could do nothing but wait and hope they had enough supplies to withstand a siege. 

Each night Jon and Ned stood guard at the top of the wall, watching, not speaking much. But during the day while he wasn’t sleeping or training, Jon met with his great uncle. 

At the first meeting, only a day after they got back from beyond the wall, and many more after that Uncle Aemon had questioned Jon about his education. He asked him how many languages he had learned and how much he knew about the seven kingdoms. Though Jon had had a lord’s education, he had stopped with his lessons months before he left for the wall. 

Though Jon knew no languages other than the common tongue as that was all their maester knew, he had always wanted to learn Valyrian as a child. Now knowing his true heritage, it made sense why he had been obsessed with learning anything and everything about the Targaryen’s. 

The lessons started easy with Jon learning simple words from a book in the library and then practicing speaking them. While he could pick up the words quickly, it was difficult to speak it with his northern accent. Ned didn’t know Valyrian, so Aemon was the only one that Jon could talk with, though he tried out his pronunciation on Ghost during his night watches. 

It was during such a night that the horn blew from the top of the wall signaling that there was to be an attack. Jon stood on the top of the wall and looked out at a huge forest fire below. The battle for the wall had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I have already stated this is a very short chapter and I'm sorry about that, but I am posting two chapters today so I hop that that makes up for it.   
> So I have been wrestling with the battle at castle black for weeks. I have finally decided to skip the explaining of it because nothing really changes in it. Ygritte still dies as does Grenn.   
> Sorry.


	11. After the battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle, they same events happen. Jon still goes to talk with Mance Ryder when Stannis comes charging in and Jon goes beyond the wall to burn Ygritte's body.  
> I hop you like it.

The morning after the battle the brothers surveyed the damage done and counted the brothers who had died. Jon was numb, watching Ygritte get shot through the back and holding her as she died, was almost too much. He had held the woman he loved in his arms and he didn’t think he would ever recover. The only woman he had ever known and will ever know.

The night before, after the battle, Jon had headed straight for his chambers, Ghost right behind him. He didn’t talk to his father or to Sam, he just cried in his chambers, distraught over his loss. He knew that he had neve had the right to love her, that it was a disaster from the start, but that didn’t stop his heart from hurting. He fell asleep with tears on his cheeks and Ghost’s head on his chest.

That morning Jon came out dressed in his watch clothes, with a thick cloak around his shoulders. The night before he had decided on a course of action, he was going to speak with Mance and try and stop the fighting.

Sam spotted him as soon as he came outside and came over to speak with him. “We held them off.”

Jon looked around at his brothers, finding his uncle helping to move a body and caught his eye. “For one night.”

Sam was ecstatic, relieved that they all hadn’t died the night before. “This is a great victory.”

“A great victory? Mance was testing our defenses. He almost made it through. And he has more giants. He has more mammoths. He has 1,000 times as many men. They'll hit us again tonight. Maybe we can hold them off for a day or two, but we'll never beat them.” He had already accepted that they were all going to die by the seemingly never ending supply of wildlings, but only if he failed. Which was the most logical conclusion.

“Where are we going?”

“Going to find Mance.” Jon stated simply, knowing that Sam was going to make a big deal about it.

Ned came over to the boys, still worried about Jon. He had watched the scene the night before, watched Jon catch and hold a wildling woman after she was shot. He knew that that had been the woman that his son was in love with. He caught the tail end of the conversation, shocked that Jon was going to go beyond the wall to speak with the man who had orchestrated the attack.

“To fi--- you can't do that.” Sam was shocked to hear those words come out of Jon’s mouth, his best friend’s mouth.

“Jon, don’t be silly, you cannot go beyond the wall the morning after the battle.” Ned figured that maybe Jon would listen to him, listen to reason.

His words didn’t matter to Jon, he had a plan and was sticking to it. “I must, I am the only one here that can talk to Mance, maybe he’ll listen to me.” Sam stepped back to listen to what he perceived as a father and son arguing.

"Do you hear yourself? The only thing he would listen to is the sound of his sword going through your body."

“I have to try.”

“No you don’t. Jon you are much too important to throw your life away on a potential suicide mission.” Though the implication between the two of them was clear, Sam was clueless as to the truth behind the statement.

“The only mission I have as a man of the night’s watch is to protect the realm of men and that is what I am trying t do.” Through his eyes, Jon baited Ned to argue with him further. It was Ned’s fault that Jon was a man of the watch, had he told him the truth sooner this might all have been avoided but he didn’t. Ned couldn’t speak anymore, the hurt in Jon’s eyes stopping him.

Sam knew that there was something deep going on between them and tried to diffuse the situation. “No one gave you any orders.”

“Who's left to give orders?” Jon asked them, knowing as they do that there was no leader of the night’s watch. There was no one to give orders, only men taking action into their own hands. “The wildling army's only an army because of Mance. He united Without Mance, they lose their leader. They lose their purpose. They go back to fighting each other. Scatter back to their homes.”

Ned understood immediately, Sam taking a few seconds to catch up “Without Mance? You're going to kill him?”

“I'm gonna try.”

“They'll never let you within 100 yards of him. And even if they did, even if you managed to kill him—"

“They'll kill me? If I don't go, they'll kill me anyway. They'll kill the rest of us, too.” To Jon his plan made the most logical conclusion. Using his knowledge of Mance, he could get close enough, closer than anyone else to do the job.

“They won't just kill you. They'll boil you. They'll flay you. They'll make it last days.”

“You're right. It's a bad plan. What's your plan?” Neither of them could speak of a different plan, of a less dangerous plan an Jon knew it.When Jon went into the tunnel, both Sam and Ned followed him.

They had reached the underground gate when they noticed a mass of bodies almost blocking the tunnel. The gate was knocked down and all of their brother were killed but they has killed the lone giant who had gotten through. Sam and Ned were shocked at seeing the giant, having never seen one before.

Jon noticed Grenn on the ground, instantly sad to see one of his closest friends had died on orders that Jon had given. Jon wasn’t immune to death, he had stared at it in the face before but it was the first time that he regretted his orders. “They held the gate.” Jon was proud of his brothers and also upset with the sacrifice that they had to make. “Get some brothers down here to help you.” They continued walked to the outer gate, Sam having a torch to signal to gate opener. Before leaving, Jon wanted to remind them that they had to burn the bodies. “We need to burn the bodies.”

Jon was nervous, he was taking a huge gamble with his life and he honestly didn’t know if it was the right course of action but he knew it was the only one they could make at that moment in time. “Raise the outer gate. Then lower it again as soon as I'm out.”

As the gate opened Jon remembered his sword. He unbuckled it and handed it to Sam while his father stared out through the gate to the land beyond the wall. To land that he had never walked on nor land he understood. “What are you doing? I promised Mormont I'd never lose it again. In case I don't come back.”

Jon didn’t hug them, to do so would be to say goodbye and accepting that he would die. Instead they just looked at each other, having silent conversations with only their eyes. Only Sam spoke after that, as Ned didn’t think words could come out of his mouth. “Jon. Come back.”

He took a deep breath and stepped beyond the wall without a weapon to protect himself. A huge gamble indeed.

 

As he came into their camp and people started to gather around him, Jon held up in hands to signify that he had to weapons. When he first had come into their camp many months ago, he had not been this scared. He had known that they would hate him because he was a crow but now they also hated him because he had deceived them.

He kept walking until he came to stand in front of Mance once again, finally lowering his hands. “You're wearing a black cloak again.”

“I've been sent to negotiate with you.” Jon lied, no one had sent him, but it was better than Mance knowing that they had no commander.

They went into Mance’s tent, where they were not let alone, they were probably wary of the exact thing that Jon was going to try. They sat down facing each other and their conversation continued. “It appears my trusting nature got the better of me. It's happened before. I was hoping your loyalty was real when you pledged yourself to us, Jon Snow. Truly I was.”

He decided that truth was the only way to go while being weaponless and surrounded by enemies, and he couldn’t lie very well. “The Halfhand ordered me to join your army and bring back whatever information I could to Castle Black. He made me kill him so you'd trust me. I was loyal to him and to my Night's Watch vows.”

Mance was surprised at his last statement somehow knowing that he was lying about being completely loyal to his vows. “All your vows? She wasn't enough to turn you, eh? Were you enough to turn her?”

Jon smiled, thinking of the fierce woman he had loved whom he had betrayed and whom he had held in his arms as she died. “She put three arrows in me when I escaped.”

"Did you see her again at Castle Black?" His throat threated to close thinking about Olly’s arrow that went through her heart.

“Yes.”

“And?”

He said it fast, not wanted to dwell on the pain again. “She's dead.”

“Your doing?” Jon didn’t know that if he had fought Ygritte, if he would have killed her.

“No.”

Mance seemed to understand the pain that Jon was trying to keep inside. “We'll drink to her.” He gave a nod to one of his men who handed Jon and Mance both cups, but Jon was hesitant. “Of all the ways I'd kill you, poison would be the last.” Before drinking them both toasted to the fiery redhead.

The moment the wine touched his mouth, Jon wanted to cough and he did but he tried to control the cough. That was most definitely not wine. While little made it down his throat, it burned as it flowed. “That's not wine.”

He could see the men around him, their lips barely breaking into a tight smile. He be they thought this was funny, seeing a crow not able to hold onto his drink, a weak southerner. “No, it's a proper northern drink, Jon Snow. You did well. Fought hard. Killed some of our strongest men. One of our giants went into your tunnel and never came out again. Mag the Mighty.”

Though Jon felt terrible that he friends had had to die because of his order, he felt proud to say that their giant had been killed, proud of his friends for holding the gate. “He's dead. He killed my friend Grenn.”

“He was their king. The last of a bloodline that stretches back before the First Men.”

“Grenn came from a farm.”

They both took a drink again, this time to honor their fallen comrades, Mag and Grenn. This time he was able to hold onto the drink and not cough as soon as it entered his mouth. “Kullback, could I trouble you for something to eat? I don't imagine our guest has eaten anything for quite some time. So, you're here to strike a bargain?”

“Turn your army around and go home.”

Mance was not going to give up that easy. He knew that they could take Castle Black, he knew the truth now. The truth that Jon had desperately tried to hide. “You know I know you're low on arrows, you're low on oil, you're low on men. How many are left, 50?”

“I told Tormund and Orell. We have more than 1,000 men.”

“I showed you everything I had. The whole army, a hundred thousand strong. And what did you do? You fired on us with everything you had. It wasn't much. As soon as I saw that, I sent 400 men to climb the Wall, an unmanned stretch five miles west of here. A lot of them will die climbing, but most of them will be over by the end of the day.” Mance could see the change in the crow’s face, the realization that the battle had only begun and that his bargain was no bargain at all but a mercy plea. “It's me being honest with you, Jon Snow, which is more than you've ever done for me. My people have bled enough. We're not here to conquer. We're here to hide behind your Wall. Just like you. We need your tunnel. Now we both know that winter is coming. And if my people aren't south of the Wall when it comes in earnest, we'll all end up worse than dead. You want to strike a bargain with me? Here's the bargain. You go back, you open the gates to us, and I swear to you that no one else will die. Refuse, and we'll kill every last man at Castle Black.” All of a sudden, an uneasy feeling came over Jon and the men around the small hut drew their weapons. Jon flinched at having his plan ruined. “Ah! Oh, that's why you're here. I reckon you could do it before any of them could stop you. They'd kill you, of course. They'd kill you slow. But you knew that when you came in here. Are you capable of that, Jon Snow? Killing a man in his own tent when he's just offered you peace? Is that what the Night's Watch is? Is that what you are?”

A horn blew at that moment with several shouts that riders were coming. Jon was confused, it couldn’t be the Night’s watch, they didn’t have the men. So, who was attacking their camp. Mance held a knife against his throat. “Are you attacking us?”

“No. It’s like you said, we don’t have the men.” When Jon came outside the tent, wildlings were racing is every way. Hundreds of men on horses were attacking the camp from both directions, but they weren’t just men, they were soldiers in a battle formation.

Mance looked around at his men that were being slaughtered and he came to a conclusion. “Stand down! I said my people have bled enough and I meant it.” His group threw down their weapons and waited to be round up.

Before them came a man in armor, not holding a sword but clearly the man in charge. He was surrounded by his men and when he stepped off his horse, the men followed.

“You're the King-beyond-the-Wall?” The man smirked like he expected someone greater. “Do you know who I am?”

Mance was not impressed by this man, “Never had the pleasure”.

An older man standing to the left of the man started speaking, informing them of the leader. “This is Stannis Baratheon, the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms.” At hearing those words, Jon was puzzled by this man, the man his uncle had told him about. So, this was the man that was proclaiming to be king? It made sense as Jon could not become king as he had taken vows to give up any title and the usurper was dead and his sons proclaiming to be king were bastards. Clearly this was the only man left with a clear claim to the throne.

“We're not in the Seven Kingdoms and you're not dressed for this weather.”

The man, the proclaimed king spoke, “It is customary to kneel when surrendering to a king.”

Jon watched Mance, waiting to see what he will do but Mance was stubborn, “We do not kneel.”

“I'll have thousands of your men in chains by nightfall, we have nowhere to put them, have nothing to feed them. I'm not here to slaughter beat dogs. Their fate depends on their king.” So, they were not here to kill the wildlings, they why did they come. These men in southern wear without furs.

“All the same, we do not kneel.”

“Take these men away.”

The older man standing beside the Baratheon king Jon, noticed the black clothing he wore. “What's a man of the Night's Watch doing in a wildling camp?”

“I was sent to discuss terms with the King-beyond-the-Wall.” Jon didn’t kneel, he didn’t feel the need for it.

“You're speaking to the one true king, boy.” Jon wanted to scoff at hearing that. To hear someone else proclaiming that they were the one true king when he knew that he was that king was interesting. Jon knew that he had no longer had any claim to the throne, not that he had known before joining the night’s watch. “You will address him as Your Grace.”

“I know he's the king. My father almost died for him. My name is Jon Snow, Your Grace. I'm Ned Stark's son.” Jon didn’t mention his former status as the bastard son, because he knew that his name spoke for it all.

“Your father is an honorable man, I heard that he became a man of the Night’s Watch.”

“He did, Your Grace.”

“What do you think he would do with him?”

“I was this man's prisoner once. He could have tortured me. He could have killed me. But he spared my life. I know that my father would take him prisoner, listened to what he had to say.”

Jon wanted to save Mance, he knew that his pride had made him a target, but Jon wanted Mance to have a chance at talking with someone who might listen to what he would say.

“Very well, then. Take him.”

The Baratheon king turned to go back to his horse but Jon stopped him. “Your Grace. If my father were here he'd also tell you to burn the dead before nightfall. All of them.” Jon wasn’t going to tell this newly arrived man the truth of the dead beyond the wall, the king wouldn’t believe him if he did. But the king listened and his men started to burn the dead bodies and everyone, captured and free began the walk back to the wall and Castle Black.

 

Back at Castle Black, a great pyre had been built in the center of the courtyard, with all of the men stacked on it, waiting to be burnt. Uncle Aemon spoke for the men who had died, spoke for their funeral. “They came to us from White Harbor and Barrowton, from Fairmarket and King's Landing, from north and south, from east and west. They died protecting men, women, and children who will never know their names. It is for us to remember them. Our brothers, we shall never see their like again. And now their watch is ended.” At his last words, the brothers all repeated them. “And now their watch is ended.”

Through the flames, Jon felt a stare boar into him. When he looked p, he found a red headed woman looking at him. Their eyes meet for several moments and Jon felt a stirring of magic in his blood, but he shook it off as false. While she stared at him, he got the feeling that this woman and he were connected, that maybe she could guess the truth behind his name.

Jon left the funeral and made it to a small room where Tormund was kept chained. “Your old blind man patched me up. Why?”

"He's sworn to treat all wounded men, friend or foe." HIs uncle was a king old man who wanted to heal instead of lead. He treated every wounded man with the same courtesy.

"You want me alive so you can torture me?" Did Tormoud think him so evil? Though Jon had betrayed them, he still believed that he had acted as honorably as possible for his position.

"No one's gonna torture you."

"So how do we die? Hanging? Beheading? Drop us from the top of the Wall?" Jon had to bite his cheek to not smirk at the idea that Tormoud had come up with. Though it was a horrible suggestion and thought, Jon was impressed by the creativity.

"I don't know what happens to the prisoners."

"Who decides?"

"I suppose Stannis does." Stannis had come to the wall for shelter and taken over their castle. It was the first time in probably a hundred years that the castle held almost its capacity. He had sat down as if he were their lord commander though he was not a brother.

"He your king now?"

"I don't have a king." Though it was true that Jon held no king as men of the night's watch obeyed no king, in his heart Jon knew that he would never again have a king over him.

"You spent too much time with us, Jon Snow. You can never be a kneeler again." Maybe Tormoud was right. There was something freeing about the time he had spent with the wildlings. There were no orders or teasing hatred of his given title "lord Snow". He was a man based on his own merit, not on the knowledge of his family or his father.

"We're gonna burn the bodies of your dead. Do you want to say any words over them?"

"Words? What kind of words?" Though Jon knew that the wildlings and the night's watch practiced different customs, he was surprised to hear that they said nothing at their fallen comrades deaths.

"Funeral words. I don't know how the free folk do it."

"Do what?"

"Say farewell".

"The dead can't hear us, boy." Tormoud didn't speak for a few moments, Jon though that maybe he was thinking on the brothers and friends he had lost. "Snow… Did you love her?" Jon couldn't say anything, but he didn't have too, his look at Tormoud said that he did. "She loved you."

"She told you?" When they had been together, he and Ygritte had never told each other that they loved on another only that they were the other. _You are mine and I am yours Jon Snow_.

"No. All she ever talked about was killing you. That's how I know. She belongs in the North. The real North. You understand me?" Jon nodded his understanding and turned to leave to accomplish this new task that had fallen onto his shoulders.

Jon took Ygritte’s body north of the wall despite the protests of his brothers and his uncle.

Jon watched the fire as it was lit and as it burned faster and hotter. Now looking at the flames as they grew bigger, he thought about the fire, about his true father and about everything that had happened since he had joined the night’s watch.

Over a two years ago, before knowing the truth, he had burnt his hand saving his commander. While feeling for the burn under his glove, he again wondered about the Targaryen words he had learned from his uncle Aemon. Fire and Blood. Aemon had told him of the tale that many years ago when dragons roamed the world, the Targaryen’s could walk through fire and not get burnt. That their blood had mixed with the dragons. This day he felt again for that burn, accepting that the tales were false because a man couldn’t touch fire without getting burnt.

 

In his spare time, when he wasn’t in his lessons with his uncle or on watch duty, Jon helped train the new recruits. Though he couldn’t blame Olly for killing a wildling while Castle Black was under siege, he resented the fact that the wildling he did kill was Ygritte. He trained extra hard on him.

In his mind, Olly reminded him of Bran, if Bran hadn’t lost the use of his legs. He was a good boy who’s early years were ruined by the murder of his entire village. One day Olly could be a great fighter, he had a good eye or foot work and he was dedicated.

They were training in the courtyard, he and Olly demonstrating for the new recruits when Olly stood still and stared at something behind Jon. When he looked behind him he saw the woman dressed in red. It was the first time that she had spoken to him.

“The king wants a word.” He followed her to the lift to take them to the top of the wall.

It was so strange to see a woman dressed so lightly for being of the south. She wore no winter cloak only a red sash around her arms. “You're not cold, my lady?” She always seemed to be staring at him like she knew his true name.

She spoke in a seductive manner, her voice matching her smooth gait and slim body. “Never. The Lord's fire lives within me, Jon Snow.” She grabbed his gloved hand, took the glove off and placed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Feel.” He did feel a slight heat emanating from her body but Jon’s body ran a little hot. Her next question caught him off guard, but it really shouldn’t have. Though Jon had had no real experience with flirting or women besides Ygritte, he could catch her hidden desire. “Are you a virgin?”

“No.”

“Good.”

When they reached the top, they found the Baratheon King and his hand, Davos Seaworth standing in the very spot Jon had commanded the wall forces during the siege. “Your Grace. The bastard of Winterfell.” Though Jon had heard the statement uttered many times over his life and the fact that it was no longer true, it still stung to be only known as the bastard of Winterfell.

“You know who rules at Winterfell now?"

“Roose Bolton.” Just the name brought hatred and pain into Jon’s heart. The man who had orchestrated the deaths of Robb and Lady Stark as well as their entire guard at Robb’s wedding. When news had reached the wall about the murders, his uncle was heartbroken. It was only a few weeks after he had told Jon the truth and at the time Jon had still been angry with him, but not anymore. Jon had held his father as he sobbed for his eldest child and his wife, deaths that he hadn’t been able to prevent.

“Mmm, the traitor who orchestrated the death of Robb Stark. Don't you want to avenge him? Doesn’t your father?” Since that day Ned’s appearance hadn’t changed much, he had always been broody and melancholy but those who knew him like Jon knew that he was not okay.

Jon wished like hell that he could throw his duty away and kill the fuckers who had killed Robb. To bring fire and blood to their doors but he knew that he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough to forgo his honor and duty to his brothers. “I want a great many things, Your Grace. But I'm a sworn brother of the Night's Watch now.”

The older man, whom he had heard referenced to as just Davos spoke then while the king looked away from Jon. “I've been talking to your sworn brothers. Many of them love you.”

Jon felt pride at the sentiment. He knew that many of the men trusted him and thought him a good leader. “They're good men.”

“Many don't.” Though Jon knew that many men, namely Ser Allister and Slynt hated him and it hurt to acknowledge it. “You were seen taking the body of a wildling girl north of the Wall. Why?” Ah so that is why they called him up here, to find out if he held sympathy for the wildlings.

“It's where she belonged.” Jon knew that they wanted to ask more questions about the girl but Jon closed his expression off from answering anything.

“Some of the Night's Watch feel you have too much affection for the wildlings.”

“They were born on the wrong side of the Wall. That doesn't make them monsters.” Jon truly felt that the fighting between the wildlings and the night’s watch was outdated in the current climate. He held warring sides in his heart. Half of him wanted to help them escape beyond the wall so that they weren’t killed but the other half still held the resentments and fear of wildlings that is taught to every child in the north.

It was King Stannis who spoke this time. “No matter. I shall take back the North from the thieves who stole it.” He let that statement sink in for a moment before continuing. “Tywin Lannister is dead. He can't protect them now. I shall mount Roose Bolton's head on a spike.” Jon’s heart fluttered at the mention of revenge. “But if I'm to take Winterfell, I need more men.”

He wanted the Night’s watch to fight with him? Jon thought that he was a smart man but maybe not. “The men of the Night's Watch are sworn to play no part-“

Stannis interrupted him. “I'm not talking about the damn Night's Watch. I'm talking about the wildlings.”

Jon was confused, why would he want the wildlings in his army. “Your Grace, you want the wildlings to march in your army?” The wildlings would never follow a king of the south.

“If they swear to follow me, I'll pardon them. We'll take Winterfell. Once the North is won, I'll declare them citizens of the realm. I'll give them land to live on.”

Davos interjected “It's a fair offer. More than fair.”

“I'll offer them their lives and their freedom if Mance kneels before me and swears his loyalty.”

It took everything in Jon not to scoff at Stannis’ idea. Mance would never kneel, he was too proud. “I don't think that's likely.”

“You admire him, don't you?”

Jon saw no reason to lie. “I respect him.”

“He likes you. Convince him to bend the knee-“

Jon had to stop this idea, he could never get Mance to agree to do such a thing. No wildling would ever kneel to a king they didn’t respect or trust. “Your Grace.”

Stannis continued his statement. “-or he burns.”

Jon did not want Mance to burn, even to Jon, a Targaryen, burning seemed dreadful. “How much time do I have.”

Stannis and his followers turned from Jon, back to gaze over the wall to the land beyond the wall. Answering his question over his shoulder as they walked away, “Nightfall. The sun drops fast this time of year. Hurry, Jon Snow.”

 

Jon went to talk with Mance in his cell. When he had entered the room Mance didn’t seem angry or disheartened, he seemed to have already accepted his fate.

Though he was surprised that Mance had guessed the truth about Stannis wanting to use the free folk in his war, though maybe he shouldn’t have been after all it was a logical choice. Stannis had few supporters left in Westeros, why not use a replaceable army in what would most likely be a bloody war.

Jon was curious about the king beyond the wall, had been since he had found out the truth. The only king he had ever met had been Robert Baratheon, a bad king if there ever was one. Meeting Mance Ryder had given Jon a view of a different sort of king, a king that was respected and honorable, who cared more about his people than himself. Of course he had talked with his two uncles about various topics to do with being a king but neither of them had ever been a king. Only Mance had, a well-respected, a well-loved king who united all of his people behind a single goal.

When Mance said that he respected Stannis and that he’d be a better ruler than other kings, Jon was confused. Why wouldn’t he kneel then to a king he could respect?

Slowly Jon began to understand. All he had ever known as a child was the north and their hesitance to take sides against other parts of the kingdom. They were rarely affected by others squabbles and yet they got pulled into fighting wars when their king demanded it of them. They were a mainly peaceful people who trusted only those in the north. Mance was a man of the north, a believer of those beliefs. A man who wouldn’t have his people fight to the death for a king that wouldn’t respect them or care if they died.

Jon could understand that belief, if there was one thing that he learned about the wildlings was that if they didn’t respect you, you were as good as dead to them.

It wasn’t that Jon respected the idea that Stannis had about including the wildlings into his army, he just didn’t want to see Mance burned alive. Though Jon could not convince Mance to kneel to save his own life, Jon somehow respected him even more now.

 

In the center of the courtyard, a great pyre was stacked waiting for it’s victim. Mance Ryder was led out of his cell to stand before Stannis in a final question of kneeling before his execution. He stood proud and strong, a man unwilling to be seen as dying a coward. Around the pyre stood all the men of the night’s watch and some of Stannis’ men.

“Mance Rayder, you've been called the King-beyond-the-Wall. Westeros only has one king. Bend the knee, I promise you mercy. Kneel and live.” Stannis seemed so sure that this man would kneel in front of him to save his own life but Mance would never. Jon saw him glance around at his men, brought to stand witness to the execution of their leader, for they seemed to give him strength in his denial.

In his last words as a man, Mance choose powerful ones. “This was my home for many years. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” Mance was taken by the hands up to the pyre and tied to a post.

The red woman turned to look in the faces of the men surrounding her. “We all must choose. Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light or we choose darkness. We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true god or the false. Free folk, there is only one true king and his name is Stannis. Here stands your king of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness.” With the end of her speech she lit multiple fires on the pyre.

For Jon this was difficult to watch. It brought worries to his mind of if he would like to see a man burned. With the blood of the Targaryen’s in his soul, especially the blood of the mad king, Jon worried that he might enjoy it. His hand flinched, imagining the flames coursing over his body. His uncle grabbed his wrist, holding it at his side, grounding him. Jon thought of the Targaryen’s of old who were claimed to be unburnt by fire and hopelessly hoped that Mance somehow had Targaryen blood and he wouldn’t burn.

When the flames reached his legs and he began to try to move away from the fire that would kill him, Jon looked away. He looked at Tormoud and the others who stood solemn and sad at having to witness such a gruesome sight.

It was when Mance began to look wildly about, second rom screaming that Jon couldn’t stand it anymore. He stepped away from his uncle’s hold, looking him in the eyes briefly before walking away, his uncle knowing what he was going to do without it being said. To grant him a merciful death, Jon shot an arrow into his heart. Before he died from the Shot, Mance caught his eyes, thanking him before surrendering his death. Everyone standing below looked around for where the shot was from and they saw Jon holding a bow, not an ounce of regret on his face.

Jon would never subject a man to a death like that, it was too cruel. Jon suspected it was the Stark in him that sought that ending instead of the Targaryen, for he remembered the way his uncle and his grandfather had died at the hands of his other grandfather in a great fire.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of his actions for Mance and guess who gets the mantle of Lord Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My next chapter will be a mixture of other characters and a bit of catch-up like Theon, Rickon, Arya and Robb.
> 
> Happy Easter to all those who celebrate it and a happy Sunday to those who don't.:)

For his merciful actions at Mance Ryder’s death, Jon was called before the king to answer for his actions. He was not scared as he knew in his heart that what he had done had been right. They had burned the man at the stake because of a southern god, the god of light as they call him. The north only recognizes the old gods.

The king sat at the lord commander’s desk like he had taken on the position, but maybe he had. He was the one calling the shots and ordering everyone around. “I ordered Mance Rayder burned at the stake. You prevented that order from being carried out. You showed mercy to Mance Rayder. The King's word is law. Perhaps you should ask Ser Davos how much mercy I show to lawbreakers.” Jon glanced over to Ser Davos to see the stubs of his fingers in his special gloves. “Show too much kindness, people won't fear you. If they don't fear you, they don't follow you.”

Jon felt tat he had to set this king to rights about the people he wanted to exploit. The free folk were not the people of the kingdoms, they did not see the world in the same way and by treating them like that they were only angering them “With respect, Your Grace, the Free Folk will never follow you no matter what you do. You're the man who burned their king alive.”

“Who then? You?” Though Jon’s heart sped up at the thought of men that he admired following him, he was not a king and he was not a free folk.

“No. Only one of their own.”

The king pulled out a scrap of paper and shoved it across the table at Jon. “Do you know this wretched girl?.. Lyanna Mormont.”

Jon wondered why this man would ask him if he knew of a girl he had never met, though he had heard of her. It seemed an old change of direction. “Lord Commander's niece.”

“Lady of Bear Island. And a child of ten. I asked her to commit her house to my court. That's her response.” Jon picked up the note to read it.

“Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is Stark.” Wow, this young girl of ten had more guts than most of the men in the kingdoms, if not all the men in the kingdom. Jon smiled a bit at the note, thinking of the history of the Stark and their reputation in the north. They were remembered and still loved as honorable and peaceful guardians.

“That amuses you.” Jon seemed to have committed some act of wrongfulness as admiring the girl’s strength.

“I apologize, Your Grace. Northerners commit a bit like the Free Folk. Loyal to their own.” The north was still upset that they could not be their own kingdom, that for centuries they had had the most land with the least amount of people. Jon had heard that people from the south often forgot the north was even around, if not for their nightmares.

Jon handed back the note, “I know. My brother, Robert, went on often and loudly about how difficult it was to control them. Even with your father's help.”

Ser Davos began to speak, “Tonight, the Night's Watch elect a new Lord Commander. Ser Alliser Thorne is going to win.”

Jon knew and was not going to be happy being under Alliser’s thumb. “Most likely.”

“One pleasant man. He thinks you're a traitor. What's your life gonna be like here at the Wall, with Thorne in command?”

Oh Jon knew, he had been experiencing it for years, only now Ser Alliser will have all of the control. “Unpleasant, I expect.”

The king spoke up then, “Your bravery made him look weak. He'll punish you for it. I don't punish men for bravery. I reward them.”

“I don't doubt that, Your Grace. But I am a brother of the Night's Watch. I have pledged them my life, my honor, my sword. I don't know what I have left to give you.”

“You can help give me the North.”

Jon was confused. How could he give the king the north, he had no connections nor ability to help? “I can't. Even if I wanted to, I'm a bastard. A Snow.” It hurt Jon to have to refer to himself as a bastard, but he now knew that his former life was all that would keep him from being killed on the spot.

“Kneel before me. Lay your sword at my feet. Pledge me your service and you'll rise again as Jon Stark, and your father will once again be Lord of Winterfell with you as his heir.” His words made Jon’s heart beat fast. All he had ever wanted growing up was to be a Stark. He wanted nothing greater than maybe perhaps the name of his mother.

“What Ned Stark did was honorable. He found out the truth of what I thought to be my nephew and he was silenced for it. Joffrey had no jurisdiction to sentence him to the wall. I can fix it.” Jon knew that, he and his uncle had discussed what had happened in great length. Jon could not answer, he could not speak. The king said he would let him think it over and talk to his father before committing.

When Jon got out of his audience with the king, he couldn’t find his uncle. He was told that he was on watch duty so he went to the next best thing, Sam. They were gathered in the dining hall to elect a new lord commander.

Sam was amazed at the king’s offer “He'll make you a Stark with a stroke of a pen and free your father as well.?”

Jon wished that he could just say yes, to hell with the night’s watch and become a Stark. “It's the first thing I ever remember wanting. I daydreamed that my father would ask the king. Just like that I would never be the Bastard of Winterfell again.”

Sam was happy for him. He had known Jon for years, had witnessed the abuse he had gone through here at the wall. “No, you deserve that. You do. I-I couldn't be happier for you.”

“I'm gonna refuse him.” Jon had already made up his mind, though he had not talked with his father yet.

Sam was confused and outraged that Jon would give up such a great opportunity. “But you'd be Lord of Winterfell someday.”

“I swore a vow to the Night's Watch. If I don't take my own word seriously, what sort of Lord of Winterfell would that be?” Just thinking about the thought of him becoming the lord of Winterfell, Jon didn’t know what to think, technically if he was no longer serving the night’s watch, he could become king, his apparent birthright. There were so many thoughts going through his mind that he didn’t even notice his father coming through the door and standing beside him until he shook his arm.

“Jon?” Ned was worried, Jon had a far-off view in his eyes that only came when he was thinking very hard. Oh, what was this boy going to do now? Raise another group of soldiers and fight the others on the other side of the wall? “Are you okay?”

Jon shook himself out of his thoughts to recognize his uncle, “Yeah, just thinking.” He gave his uncle a slight smile and then they all sat down to await the election.

Uncle Aemon, as maester was leading the election. “Hey. Crowded, You'd think we were serving venison stew.” Jon chuckled at his uncle’s joke along with a few other brothers. “Does anyone wish to speak for candidates before we cast our tokens for the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?”

Slynt stood up “Ser Alliser Thorne is not just a knight, he's a man of true nobility. He was Acting Commander when the Wall came under attack and led us to victory against the wildlings. Yes. He's a veteran of 100 battles and has been a defender of the Watch and the Wall almost all of his life. He's the only true choice.” Several men shouted yes and cheered on the longtime brother.

Another brother stood “Ser Denys Mallister joined the Watch as a boy and has served loyally longer than any other Ranger. Through ten winters he served. As Commander of the Shadow Tower he kept the wildlings away. We could do no better.” A few other men shouted for Mallister.

Uncle Aemon took over, somehow his blind eyes meeting Jon’s as if he could see him. “If there's no one else we will begin the voting. The triangular tokens count for Ser Alliser Thorne. The square tokens for Ser Denys Mallister.” Jon tapped his cup on the table in support for Mallister, it will be him he will vote for.

Sam, already standing spoke up. “Maester Aemon.” Jon froze and turned to Sam, about to knock him down. Jon wanted to silence Sam before he could speak up and Jon suspected that Sam would speak up on his account.

Uncle Aemon almost seemed to have relaxed at Sam’s interruption. Jon shook his head at Sam, silently pleading with him to not do what he was about to do. “Samwell Tarly, go on.”

Slynt spoke up about Sam. “Sam the Slayer. Another wildling lover, just like his friend, Jon Snow. How's your lady love, Slayer?”

Sam seemed to smile, about to snipe back at Slynt the snake. “Her name is Gilly. Ser Slynt knows her quite well. They cowered together in the larder during the battle for the Wall.” Several of the men laughed and the room relaxed a bit. Slynt shouting out “Lies!” Sam only continued, “A wildling girl, a baby, and Lord Janos. I found him there after the battle was over. In a puddle of his own making.” Jon seemed to be the only one not enjoying the teasing of Slynt, dreading the scene Sam was about to make. “Whilst Lord Janos was hiding with the women and children Jon Snow was leading. Ser Alliser fought bravely, it is true, but when he was wounded, it was Jon who saved us. He took charge of the Wall's defense, he killed the Magnar of the Thenns, he went North to deal with Mance Rayder. Knowing it would almost certainly mean his own death. Before that, he led the mission to avenge Lord Commander Mormont. Mormont himself chose Jon to be his steward. He saw something in Jon. And now we've all seen it too. He may be young, but he's the commander we turned to when the night was darkest.” Jon could not look anyone in the eye, he was terrified of what the men would say, but when several men cheered him on, he relaxed a bit.

Now Ser Alliser stood up. “Can't argue with any of that. But who does Jon Snow want to command? The Night's Watch? Or the wildlings? Everyone knows he loved a wildling girl. He spoke with Mance Rayder many times. What would have happened in that tent between those two old friends if Stannis's army hadn't come along? We all saw him put the King-Beyond-the-Wall out of his misery. Do you want to choose a man who has fought the wildlings all his life or a man who makes love to them?” Jon knew the way it sounded, that he was a sympathizer of the free folk. It made him sound as if he were on the opposite side no matter everything that he had done to prove that he wasn’t.

His father slapped his hand on his back, attempting to calm him, but Jon wasn’t angry. He was only apologetic. It is true that he had done things that no other brother would do, that he had lived with the free folk, loved a woman, spoke with the king multiple times and tried to reason with him. Jon had no defense for his actions so he let them slide.

Uncle Aemon called for the vote, “It is time!”

Each man got three tokens, a triangle, a square and a circle, to choose from to place in a pitcher. After the voting was done, the pitcher was broke and each token was laced on a corresponding stick for easy measure. The tension in the room was thick and heavy, everyone holding their breaths for what they knew would be a tight count.

With all of the token on their sticks, it was plain to see that two of the towers were even, the triangle and the circle. Ser Alliser or Jon himself. The man who had counted the token spoke next to uncle Aemon’s ear, “It appears to be a tie, maester.”

Uncle Aemon felt for the towers, feeling the outlines of the circle and the triangle. In his hand he held the wining token and he placed a circle on the tower, electing Jon as Lord Commander.

Jon’s heart beat wildly, almost more so then when Stannis had offered to make him legitimate. This was true, this had been because of his skill and of his leadership, not because of his name. Man started cheering and clapping for him, “Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow!” He looked at his father, who only had a smile on his face and pride in his eyes. He patted him on the back and Jon had never felt more accepted.

Jon looked at his great uncle and wondered if the man had voted for him because he was his nephew or if he really thought he would be a good commander. Those thoughts didn’t matter much right now, he was too elated.

 

Later that day after celebrating, Jon, Ned and Aemon gathered in the library to speak. He told his uncles of the king’s offer, his uncle Ned having to sit down and put his face in his hands.

“He said that he would release us?” Ned couldn’t quite get his head around the fact that they could be free of their vows, they could go back home.

“He said that he would make me a Stark and make you lord of Winterfell again.” After everything that had happened that day, Jon was unsure of his future. “How wants us to give him the north.”

Stannis was no fool, he knew that he could never control the north if he were to retake the throne if a Stark wasn’t at Winterfell. Most of the northern houses would only follow a Stark or no one at all.

Aemon stayed silent as they discussed their options, him having no opinion on the matter, “What are we going to do? What are our choices?”

Jon saw it only one way, he was not dead, therefore he could not be released from his vows. “Two choices, break our vows and go to Winterfell or stay.” Jon took a deep breathe and told the of his decision, “I will refuse him.”

“Jon, just think this through. If you get released from your vows, you can take your rightful place as king.” Ned pleaded with him to decide truly for himself and not for the way he thought he should decide.

“My rightful place? My grandfather burned people alive. My father married my mother after annulling his other marriage and it caused a rift in the kingdoms, so big that everyone lost something. My parents made questionable decisions and then my father was killed in battle before I was born. Robert was crowned king, he had tried to mend the pains my parents had caused. I am no longer king. Besides, if I were to take the deal, what would that say to people about my honor, that it can be bought for a wife and a life away from the wall? I choose the wall, naively at first but over the years I have made it my home and it allowed me to become who I think I was always supposed to be. This is now my home; these men are my family and I will not abandon my family.”

Ned looked at his foster son, the boy he had held in his arms moments after he had been born, the boy he had carried from Dorne to Winterfell to raise, the boy he had allowed to become apart of the Night’s Watch without telling him the truth of him, the man who was now a hardened warrior. Ned looked at Jon and saw the truth, of a man who had taken the deepest ideal of Ned and ingrained them in his character so strongly that he became more honorable than the famously honorable Ned Stark. His nephew had surpassed him in duty and honor, and he knew that he could not abandon him.

“I will refuse him as well.” Jon looked at his uncle like he was crazy, like he had made a decision that Jon thought he would never make.

“What? Why? You can go back to Winterfell with no trouble. You did not truly choose this lifestyle, you were forced into it by an evil bastard king with not power to do so. I choose this for me. Do not stay because of me.”

“Why not? You are my son, not in blood but in love. I may not have willingly chose this but I am not innocent, I held a secret for many years that would have branded me treasonous. If Robert had found out years ago and had he been merciful, I would have come here. I have made terrible decisions that cost me the house of my family for thousands of years, I did that, me. If I can no longer be lord of Winterfell, which I had never wanted, I would want to be here. Our ancestors built this wall, they were the first men on this island. Starks have manned this wall since it was built, this place is as much of our home as Winterfell.” Ned loved his nephew like a son, thought of him as his son and he would protect him now because he had not been able to do so for all of his life. Lyanna had made him promise to protect her son and now he was.

“Uncle-“ Jon could not finish the refusal as it couldn’t appear in his mind. Jon looked at his uncle, feeling the connection that he imagined only a son could feel. “Father.”

They hugged like they had never hugged before, accepting their lives that would be bound together till they died. Jon felt wetness in his eyes and he hurriedly wiped them away on his cloak before pulling away.

No that that was over, Jon turned to his other uncle to ask him a burning question. “Did you vote for me because I am your nephew?” Jon didn’t know what he wanted the answer to be. If yes, then did he truly deserve to be lord commander. If no, then why choose a man who had only been at the wall a few years and not someone more experienced.

“Yes and no.” His uncle Aemon settled in a chair by the fire, bringing his old, tried bones a little comfort he could manage. “Yes, I did vote for my nephew, the man who has the blood of kings, warriors and leaders running through his veins. I voted for the man who knows the truth about the war that will soon be coming our way and will accurately prepare for it. I voted for the man best suited for the job.”

Jon stood gazing at the man in wonder, feeling pride make its way into his heart, to know that the two most important men in his life, believe and trust in him.

“Now, enough of this, you still have a lesson to complete for today.” His uncle pointed to a long note written in Valyrian. “Pikībagon hen loud se pār translate bisa note. Lo ao mess bē mēre pronunciation ao jāhor jiōragon nykeā harder translation se sīr va.” Jon groaned at the work and his father chuckled at him, standing up to leave the two Targaryen’s to their business.

Ned went directly to his chamber to write a quick note to the growing list of actions that had happened.

_Spider,_

_He has become lord commander, His mother and father would be so proud of him, their heart, passion and drive have made him a leader. I wish that he could become king, he would be the best king of the past several centuries, but I know that he wont._

Ned had been in contact with Varys since he had let him go, frequently sending letters to each other over the business of the kingdom. Other than himself, Aemon, Lord Reed and Jon himself, only Varys knew the truth. He had figured it out and had confronted Ned in the capital before his arrest but had sworn to say nothing.

The last letter that Varys had sent had said that he was leaving the seven kingdoms with Lord Tyrion.   He hadn’t said where he was going or when he would be there only that he would send a note when he reached his final destination. In response Ned had started a note to tell him of everything that will have happened.

He hadn’t told Jon about his correspondence directly, but he knew that he was writing to an ally. It was good to know of things that were happening in the kingdoms, far away from him, where he could do nothing. Varys had told him of his daughters escape from King’s Landing before her arrest but he did not know where she went, only that she boarded a boat and sailed away.

When the time came he would tell Jon everything, but that time had not come yet. He had just become the most important/powerful man in the Night’s Watch, there was enough on his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I used this valyrian translate website, but I don't speak or read valyrian so I have no idea if its right.
> 
> “Pikībagon hen loud se pār translate bisa note. Lo ao mess bē mēre pronunciation ao jāhor jiōragon nykeā harder translation se sīr va.” 
> 
> translation:  
> Read out loud and then translate this note. If you mess up one pronunciation you will get a harder translation and so on.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little catch up of other characters, Rickon, Theon, Robb, Arya, Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read your comments, I know that the first chapters were very compliant with the canon but in the next few, everything is changing. I hope you like it.

Theon and Rickon – before the red wedding

Theon stood on the large battlement that looks out over the lands leading up to the main gate of Winterfell. A warm wind had picked up from south, bringing a bit of a heat wave to the constant coldness of the north. Rickon was currently in a lesson with Maester Luwin so Theon had taken the chance to reflect on everything. 

Robb had asked him to watch over Winterfell and little Rickon while he and his mother went south for Robb’s wedding. Since Rickon was still a child and didn’t know how to run a castle, Theon took on most of the everyday tasks. Though there wasn’t much for him to do than watch over the people and prepare the castle for its new lady. Robb and their party, which had taken a large percentage of the household guard plus various bannerman and their soldiers, had been gone a few weeks. 

Theon relished his new newfound power and couldn’t wait till he got home to the Iron Islands to begin to take on the role of lord. He had thought about sending a raven to his father and ask him to send some iron born to take over Winterfell while the Starks were gone but if Theon had learned anything since coming to live with the Starks at age 9, it was honor.

He often felt that he was being cheated out of his rights, that he should have been a prince instead of a ward. He had resented and envied the Starks for years, blaming them for his family’s problems. But in the last year or so, watching Robb deal with his newfound power after Lord Stark joined the Watch, Theon had learned more about what it meant to have power. To have power meant to have responsibility. That you had to protect and guard your people.

Theon had been a ward of the Stark family for the past ten years, part of the family but not. He didn’t have their blood or their name, but he was treated better at Winterfell than at his home on the Iron Isles. When he first arrived he didn’t understand why they were so nice to him, his father had rebelled against the king and his two older brothers were killed. Theon was the last son, the heir to the Kraken. 

He and Robb had become fast friends, each an heir and both outgoing and talkative. Robb’s bastard brother wasn’t like them at all, he was quiet and reserved, brooding all the time. The bastard was treated better than Theon had been treated by his father as a true born son and he hated him because of it. Jon was good at everything, fighting with a sword, riding, and learning. The only thing Theon was better at was using a bow and talking to women.

He resented him and everyone who said he was pretty. Theon considered himself reasonable attractive but every time he went to the brothels at Winter’s town, the women always asked when he was going to bring the pretty one. He would then take pleasure in telling them that the bastard was nothing, he had never even been with a woman but then they all talk about him and about how his outward beauty would translate to a god in bed. 

Everyone had praised him, praised his skill all the time unless Lady Stark was around and then everyone ignored him. Theon had used that to his advantage. Every time the bastard had proved his skill and everyone clapped, Theon would shout out to an invisible Lady Stark and everyone would automatically drop all emotion. Theon had had to find his place at Winterfell and he wanted Jon’s place, not the bastards place but as a brother to Robb and a son to Lord Stark.

“Lord Greyjoy!” A young squire that Theon couldn’t remember the name of came running up the stairs toward him. “A message came and Maester Wolkan said to come get you.” 

Theon followed him down to the courtyard but surpassed him to go to the maester’s chambers. When he got there the Maester was distraught, his eyes shining with tears. He silently handed the note to Theon but Theon didn’t want to read the note. He had a bad feeling about whatever was in it. There were many drops and smears of dried blood on the note and the writing was quick and dirty. In the end he grabbed the note and prepared for the worst and the worst is what he read.

Betrayed by the Boltons and Greys!! Lord and Lady Stark were murdered. Save the new lord of winterfell!! The Boltons are coming to gain Winterfell.

It wasn’t signed, it was probably hastily written while they were under attack. If both Robb and Lady Stark were murdered, the lordship passed to Bran but Bran was nowhere to be found, so Rickon became the new lord. 

Winterfell was heavily fortified and it would take an army to get into it. It could be held with a few men but with the wedding in the south, the not yet replaced household of those who had go south with Robb’s father and all of the men still searching for Bran, they were short a few of the few men they would need. 

“The wedding was three days ago, if the Boltons left men at the Dreadfort, they could be here anytime.“ Theon was worried, what should they do, should they hold the castle? They had so few men, no one would be coming to help them, they would get starved out of the castle. At that thought a horn was blast. Theon went outside and went up to the battlements where men were pointing to the south, a huge battalion was gathered. 

Theon couldn’t make the symbol on their flags but he bet they held the Dreadfort flayed man. He needed to decide on their course of action and fast. The calvalry of the Dreadfort started forward.

He made up his mind, he needed to get Rickon out of the castle and far away from Winterfell. They might win but the battle will be bloody and he didn’t want the little boy who he regarded as a brother to be caught up in it. Theon rushed to Rickon’s room where he and Osha were playing with little wooden soldiers, his direwolf lying down by the fire. 

“Rickon, hurry, you need to get out of Winterfell as fast as possible.” Osha had stood up at his words, understanding that they were in danger. She immediately started to pack a small bag with spare clothes. Shaggydog had got up from his place and now stood right beside Rickon who had not moved a muscle. 

“What’s wrong? Where’s Robb? Where’s my mother?” Theon went to drag Rickon to his feet, throwing an extra shirt over his head and placing a cloak around his shoulders. 

“Something bad happened to them. Those same bad men are coming to get you, we need to get you out of here.” Rickon started to cry, not fully grasping what was happening. Theon dropped to his knees fast and hugged his foster brother to his chest. The hug was fast and Rickon grabbed onto him to hug him again but Theon stood up and grabbed Rickon’s hand, dragging him from the room, Osha and Shaggydog following.

They went down to the crypt where there was a secret passage out into the woods far from the castle walls. Only the immediate family knew about the passage, Theon only knowing from Robb showing it to him shortly after their return from the south, in case anything should happen.  
The crypt was cold and quiet, only the occasional drip of water making a sound. Rickon was terrified, having only been down to the crypt once, he latched onto Theon’s hand like a vise. “I’m scared Theon.”

“You don’t have to be Rickon, we are surrounded by your family, if anyone should be scared to should be me.” He had tried to make a light joke to displace some of the tension but it backfired and only made Rickon more attached to his hand. The big black direwolf quickly went around all of the silent tombs to suss out any threats but found none. The quickly and quietly walked past the most recent tombs of the Stark family, past Rickon’s aunts statue, his uncle, his grandfather and grandmother and all the rest of them to a small hidden door in a dark corner, so hidden that if you didn’t know exactly where it was you would never find it. 

Theon opened the door and quickly pushed Osha, Shaggydog and Rickon through but Rickon whimpered and clung to his hand. “No, I don’t want to go.”

Theon tried to detach Rickon’s hand from his but that only served for him to grab onto his leg fully. Instead he spoke to Osha, “Follow the tunnel to the end, you will surface in the Wolfswood. Go immediately north for a few miles then head west. Only travel by night, if you hear dogs or horses go to a river immediately.”

“Where do we go?”

Theon quickly thought of all the places that would be safe. He settled on the safest place for Rickon in the seven kingdoms, a place where he would be protected by not only his father but by his brother as well. “North. Head to Castle Black. He’ll be safe with his father and brother.” 

Theon then turned back to Rickon, slowly peeling his hands away from his body. “Rickon, listen to me. I need you to be strong, can you be strong?” He shook his head no with tears rolling down his face. “Yes, you can, you are a Stark. You are the sons of winter, you have the north in your blood. It’s not going to be an easy trip but I know that you can do it. Okay?” Rickon slowly nodded his head, hugging Theon one last time before following Osha out the door. 

Theon closed the small door and made sure that it was indistinguishable from the rest of the old stones. Satisfied he went back out to the courtyard to hold the castle. He may not have the blood of the Starks but he would defend his home till his last breath.

*******************  
Arya

Since she left her brother at the home of their mother’s ancestors, she had stolen a horse, killed a few Lannister men and stolen a chicken. She didn’t quite know where she was going, she had gotten out of the boat almost a day after leaving, not wanting to travel by water so close to enemy territory so she had walked for days before finding an inn. 

She had thought about going north with her brother, had thought about it long and hard. In the end she had decided to trust her instincts and follow her blood thirst. Her blood lust her scared her after leaving King’s Landing but eventually she embraced it and after her mother was murdered, knew what she had to become. 

She wanted death, she wanted to feel the blood of her enemies flowing from their bodies as she slit their throats or watched them die slowly from a gut stab. After everything that had happened to her family, all of the betrayal and pain, she wanted to deal it back tenfold. She wanted their enemies to burn and they would but not yet. 

She wasn’t ready yet, she wasn’t trained. 

Ever since she saw Jaqen H’ghar kill all of those men at Harrenhall, she wanted to know more. She wanted to kill. She knew that she could be good at it. She was intrigued and drawn to the dark art of death, the slow pain of death and the color red. 

After years of being forced to sew and dance she was finally doing what she had always wanted to do, fight. She suspected that if she had gone north to her father, that he would have wanted her to give up her fight and become a lady but it wasn’t her anymore. 

She would never be a lady, not that she had been one those many years ago. She was a killer who liked what she did.

She trained everyday with her needle, trained in the art of water dancing which enabled her to fight fluidly and quick, using her height to her advantage. With nothing else to do all day on the way to Braavos, Arya trained and learned how to sail while learning a bit of the Braavosi language. 

She now had muscles in new places, making her a lean, strong girl. She still dressed as a boy, finding it easier to travel and gain more respect. 

While she wanted to be a true water dancer, she now felt the desire to become nothing more than a shadow, silently killing her enemies before they spoke a single word. Her targets were larger, stronger and many heavily guarded, she needed to learn to be a better killer if she wished to gut them.

************  
Robb

Robb hated Sandor Clegane. He hated his attitude, the way he talked and his snide comments. He was so tired of hearing about this cunt did this and that cunt did that. Couldn’t this man just shut up. 

They had been stuck together for months after leaving Riverrun. As both of them had nowhere to go, Sandor had a price on his head and everyone thought Rob Stark to be dead. While originally, they had thought to take the river to the ocean and take a boat to Eastwatch, now they decided to travel mostly over land. 

They now decided to travel more north, to a safer zone for them to travel in than taking the river southeast. Robb had decided that they would go to White Harbor, a house sworn to his family, as it was a large port and went frequently to Eastwatch, one of the few. And as it grew colder, Sandor complained even more, saying that his cock was going to fall off from the cold. 

Robb had rubbed soot into his hair, to disguise his very distinguishable auburn hair, though he could do nothing to disguise his blue eyes. They had changed their clothes to more humble wear, though the clothes were baggy to hide their weapons. Since Sandor was very recognizable they had to come up with something to disguise him.

“You could wear a patch over your eye, make it seem like you lost it in a fire.” He also muttered to himself, “Also cut your hair.” 

“What was that? I’m not wearin no patch over my fuckin eye.” Robb was skinning a rabbit while Sandor was building the fire, the irony was not lost on him. Robb had tried to get Sandor to be less afraid of fire. While he could now build the fire, he wouldn’t light it, progress.

“You got to do something. You stick out like a sore thumb. I’m not saying that you have to wear it all the time, just around people.”

“I’ll not wear no fuckin eye patch.”

Robb was exacerbated, this man was the most stubborn man on the continent. “Fine, then what’s you plan?”

“I have no plan.”

“You are going to get us killed.”

“I can hold my own, cant say the same about you.”

Robb was furious. “I was attacked by surprise, with no weapons and surrounded by men with weapons. I did eventually fight my way out. What have you done? Have you ever been attacked at your own wedding, by men that were sworn to your house?” Sandor shook his head. “No, I didn’t think so.” 

They both resented the other, but they had no choice other than to stay together if they wanted to survive. They trained every day, wanting to be ready in case they were ever captured or in case they ever came upon a group of men intending on killing them. Sandor never took it easy on him, knocking him to the ground multiple times with his great strength, but Robb never gave up. 

Most discussion between them would turn into large disputes. Tempers ran high, food ran low and it was cold. They had reached the north finally after months and months of traveling, going by boat from White Harbor up to Eastwatch. Form there they would grab a few horses and go on to Castle Black.

“Why the fuck is it so fucking cold?”

“We are now in the north, its going to get colder when we get to the wall.”

“Why the fuck are we going to the wall if it is so fucking cold. Why not go east?”

“If you don’t want to go, then leave.” Sandor didn’t say anything to that, he never did. He complained about everything until Robb would tell him to leave if he didn’t like it, but he never left. He had nowhere to go in Westeros, the crown wanted him dead and yet he stayed in Westeros.  
When they got to White Harbor, they had to be very careful, they have very distinguishable faces. They kept rags over parts of their faces, dressed like poor folks waiting to catch a ride to the north where they could live and be fed for nothing but a lifetime of cold and fighting. Luckily the day that they arrived, they found a ship going north with supplies and were able to cath a ride. 

In Eastwatch they were immediately taken to a cell where they were told they would go with a caravan to Castle Black in a few days. Robb tried to explain to the man in black who locked them up that Ned Stark was his father, but the man didn’t know a Ned Stark. Robb thought about telling them that he had a brother at Castle Black as well but he doubted that the man would know who his brother was. 

They waited for hours until the guard came back in to unlock the door. Robb and Sandor were confused; they thought that they weren’t leaving for a day or two. Then a terrible thought came over the both of them, Robb had told the man that Ned Stark was his father, they now knew that Robb Stark was alive. They were going to be executed or sent to King’s landing to be executed. The man said that the Lord Commander was on his way and that they would talk with him.

**********  
Sansa

Coming back home to Winterfell was a bittersweet moment. As a girl all she had wanted was to leave the dreary, cold north but as she grew older all she wanted was to go home. She wanted everything to be as it was during her childhood, before they had ever gone south.

She wanted her mother and father to be there, her brother Robb, Bran and Rickon too. Even her little annoying sister Arya. She even wanted the brother she had never taken the time to know, the quiet, reserved brother who never did anything to incur her mother and in turn her hatred of him.

In her first few days, after Lord Baelish had left her, she had spent many hours in the crypts standing in front of her dead family members. She was in the home of her ancestors, surrounded by her family and yet none of them were there. Here she was surrounded by enemies, no one to save her nor protect her. Long ago she had been a naïve, stupid girl, now she was grown and wiser, not as trusting nor weak as she had been raised. 

A girl, Miranda had, told her to go into the Kennels, to find what had been left to her by her mother, a way to remember her family.

She found Theon laying in the muck and waste of dogs and humans, the man who had let the Boltons in her home. No one knew where Rickon was, rumor has it that Theon killed him and buried him in the Wolfswood. She hated him but as she looked him in the eyes she didn’t find Theon, but the shell of a man. 

Later she found out that he was now different, so different from the cocky boy she had known growing up. He now went by the name Reek and was frightened of her betrothed. 

Now on her second wedding night, she was dressed in white and married in the godswood where her father had so often contemplated everything. Here again she was marrying against her will, without her family to support her. She could not hate them, almost everyone was dead but her father and brother in the Night’s Watch. 

Theon/ Reek was to walk her down the aisle, as a replacement for her dead family. He was dressed in finer clothes and was well cleaned, no longer reeking of urine and feces.

The godswood was beautiful, lit up exactly as she would have imagined a wedding at Winterfell to look. She had never seen a godswood wedding before, having seen neither her older brother or uncle married. There was hardly anyone around, no lords or ladies of the houses of the north, only Ramsey and his family. While she would no longer be Lady Sansa of House Stark, she would always have the blood of the wolves running through her veins. 

After weeks of torture and being locked in her room. Sansa and Theon escaped together, jumping down from the wall blockade during the battle against Stannis. If she had stayed she would have been flayed, she assumed, she and Theon had accidently murdered Miranda, Ramsey’s love. There was only so much Ramsey could do to her before it was visible. She didn’t want to wait and see, she didn’t want to end up like Theon, she could only handle so much pain. 

They ran and ran, freezing all the while. They had to cross a river that was not yet frozen over, so cold that Sansa thought she would never thaw. They ran until they came to a huge downed tree and Theon settles Sansa under the trunk when they heard dogs barking nearby. Theon told her to stay there and then he ran off, to a different direction. 

Sansa was terrified that Theon had left her there to freeze to death, or worse it was a secret spot that Ramsey knew and was coming to get her. She wished she had a knife or something, anything to protect herself. She didn’t breathe until she heard the barking decrease, going in the same direction, Theon had gone. 

When she heard more horses coming she panicked, she didn’t even have Theon to protect her. The horses stopped a few feet from her, but there weren’t any dogs and only two horses. A heavy set of feet landed beside their horse and Sansa tried to move farther back into the tree, wishing to just disappear all together. Her breathe came faster and faster, almost hyperventilating. 

A white blonde head appeared under the trunk, the face of the woman that had tried to save her only months before. “Lady Sansa, I am here to protect you. My name is Lady Brienne.”

Sansa took a deeper breathe, trying to calm herself down, her heart not beating as fast. Brienne had motioned her out from under the tree. Sansa moved, though not very fast with her frozen limbs. As soon as she was standing in front of the woman and a younger man, Brienne leaned down on one knee, placing her sword at her feet. “Lady Sansa, I offer my services once again, I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new.”

Sansa had never taken a knight’s vow before but she had heard and read of many. “And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and Meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new.” At the end Brienne stood again, putting away her sword, but Sansa had one request, “Take me to Castle Black.”


	14. Suicide mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is going north but along the way he might find a few surprises.

After Jon had refused Stannis, he wasn’t as accommodating as he had been before, but Jon was Lord Commander now. He could kick Stannis out of Castle Black for him violating the code of the Night’s Watch, that they will not take sides in King’s conflicts. His uncle had also been in the meeting to refuse the offer as well.

Jon was conflicted over everything, his decision to remain at Castle Black, his decision of the Free Folk. That was what conflicted him the most, what to do with them. He knew that there was a fight coming but could they really join forces with the wildlings? 

After weeks of fighting silently with the conflicts inside of him, he decided to broach the subject with his uncles. He gathered his father/uncle from his duties and together they went to the library where Sam was reading notes to Aemon. 

On the way to the library they stopped by a beautiful sight. Ghost and a newly admitted Nymeria were lying in the snow licking at each other. Nymeria had showed up a few days after the battle for castle black and since Jon was elected Lord Commander he had allowed her to stay. She had traveled a very long way to reach the north. After years of being the only direwolf in Castle Black, Ghost was enjoying the company of his sister. They left the two to their bonding fest. 

Anytime Sam left a room that Jon was in, he stared at Jon, as if finally seeing who he really was. It was only a week after Jon had been elected as Lord Commander that he finally told Sam of his real heritage. Sam had accidently walked in on a Valyrian lesson and would not let it go. He couldn’t understand why Jon would want to learn a language he would never use. It was then, in the library, in front of his old, blind uncle that Jon told the true story of himself.

At first Sam didn’t believe him but as the facts piled up, how could anyone doubt the blood of the Targaryen’s. Ever since that night, Sam always wanted to talk about dragons and his aunt Daenerys. Every note that came to Aemon was first read to him and then given to Jon. Sam as a scholar who had learned how to read and write Valyrian even volunteered to help him. 

He needed the advice from the two men he trusted the most, the two men who he respected the most. He wanted to save the free folk. It had been a very difficult decision, one that he had wrestle with for weeks. He knew it to be the right choice but in doing it, it would divide the night’s watch to even greater unrest. 

Jon didn’t want to be hated, he had never wanted this life. When he’d been a child all he wanted was to be a true born son of house Stark and then a night. As he grew up and realized his status, he wanted to be a ranger like his uncle Benjen. When he had arrived at Castle Black, almost every hated him because he had been raised like a lord. Then as the years went on, he incurred the wrath of those who thought him too young and weak to lead. Now as a leader, he had to accept the truth that to lead meant that you will not always be liked. 

His uncle Aemon didn’t even need to hear what Jon wanted to do or what he had been wrestling with, it was like he already knew. Ned had already decided to follow Jon wherever he went, to protect his back. It didn’t matter that this was a suicide mission, he had promised his sister that he would protect her son and that is what he was going to do. 

After that meeting, Jon met alone with Tormoud to determine where the Free folk had gone after Stannis had attacked. Ever since he had lived and learned from the free folk, his perception on life had changed. He didn’t truly see them as enemies but as potential allies and now with the real fight coming, they would need every hand to protect the living.

Jon knew that the war was coming, he had felt it for many years and finally as Lord Commander he could do something about it. He didn’t want anyone to die, it didn’t matter who they were, whether it be the night watch’s enemy for 8000 years or his rivals in Castle Black.

Jon knew that he would have a bitch of a time convincing his brothers to follow him to help their enemies. He faced opposition everywhere except in the face of his uncle and Sam. For thousands of years the Starks had foretold the coming of winter and right now winter was closer than ever. Now it was a race against time to save as many people as possible from joining the ranks of the army of the dead.

With the ships that Stannis lent him, he would get as many free folk as he possibly could.  
The morning that they were set to leave for Eastwatch where the ships were kept, Jon went to his uncle.

On the road, barely 5 miles from Castle Black their party came upon a group of two small figures. They were waddling through the high snows and bitter winds. They had long hair and cloaks of furs, looking like wildlings. At first Jon had thought they were free folk but they carried no weapons and they put up no fight.

From behind the black party, they heard a loud growl. Jon turned in his seat and saw something he couldn’t believe, a large black dire wolf with green eyes. It was snarling and its teeth were bared but Jon knew this creature, though years had passed he still recognized him. It was Shaggydog, Rickon’s direwolf. 

Jon turned back to the small party, but this time he saw something else. He saw what was clearly a woman with a cloth wrapped over her head and he saw a young man who used to be a boy so long ago. “Rickon?” Jon couldn’t believe it and yet he could. 

Though Rickon had indeed grown since he had last seen him, it was still the boy that he knew at Winterfell. Rickon took off the cloth around his head, his curly brown hair tossing in the wind. Ned jumped down from his horse and embraced his youngest son, a boy he thought he would never see again. 

Ned had tears running down his face which was mirrored on Rickon’s face. Jon jumped down to go to his youngest brother, the brother that they had heard had been killed in the battle at Winterfell. 

There were many tears and assurances of health over the next half hour. Rickon had told them the story of his escape, how Theon had gotten him out and through the tunnel before going back in. He introduced them to Osha, the wildling woman who had took care of him and protected him for years. He told them of how they had had to travel by night for months, always traveling near water whenever possible to mask their scent. 

Jon decided to take Rickon and Osha with them and leave them in Eastwatch as they went north. 

When they reached Eastwatch, Jon sent his men to go make sure that the boats were ready. The man in charge of Eastwatch came over and told him that two men had arrived from the south earlier that day. Jon said that he would take care of them while Ned, Rickon and Osha went to the dining hall for some food and drink.

Before Jon reached the cells, he heard a deep voice growl out. “Why the fuck couldn’t you keep your mouth shut? We’re going to die because of you.”

Next a younger voice spoke and Jon almost recognized the voice. He hadn’t heard it in years, but his brother was dead. “Shut it Sandor, they can’t kill us if we pledge to be men of the watch.”

“I’m not joining no bloody night’s watch.” The deeper voice spoke again and Jon waited for the reply, listening closely to the younger man’s reply.

“Then why did you come here with me?” It was his brother’s voice, but how? Robb had been murdered at his wedding.

Before the deeper voice had a chance to speak again, Jon stepped through the door, halting when he saw the men. The tall older man was facing him and froze as he was about to speak. The younger man turned towards Jon, his heart stopping when he saw the man’s face. It looked just like Robbs, only his hair was dark, almost black in contrast with his brother’s auburn curls. 

Robb froze before a great smile came over his face, a smile that was mirrored on Jon. They both rushed towards each other, speaking the other’s name. Their hug was hard and powerful, trying to put as much emotion as they could into it to make up for the years they had been apart.

They broke away when the older man spoke again. “What the fuck is going on?”

Robb answered, “Sandor this is my brother Jon, Jon this is Sandor Clegane.” Jon held out his hand towards the large man but the man didn’t move.

“What about the lord commander? Where is he? Made a decision to kill us and sent you to do it.” The man, Sandor, was wary of him, Jon could tell. This man didn’t trust easy, not that Jon could blame him. You should never trust a man you just met. 

“I would never order the death of a man who I hadn’t heard speak his last words.” Jon tried for a lighthearted comment but his face must not have transmitted it.

Robb was astonished. “You’re the lord commander?”

Jon felt his face grow hot. He still wasn’t used to be called the lord commander. He rubbed the back of his neck before answering, “Uh.. Yeah.” Several moments passed with no sound, Sandor was shocked that a man so young was the commander and Robb was shocked proud of his brother. “Come on, we’ll go to the dining hall.”

Jon left first with Sandor following, Robb took a few moments to process and then ran after his brother. “I thought you were at Castle Black, why are you in Eastwatch?”

“My party is heading north to a free folk village, Hardhome.”

Robb was shocked again, why would Jon be going to a free folk village. Who were the free folk? Where they the wildlings? “Why?”

“To save them.” Again shocked, after their entire childhood of Robb not being surprised by his brother, he had shocked him more times than he could count. Save wildlings, why would he want to do that? They were savages and murderers. Jon went up the steps to a large building, Robb and Sandor following him. When they went through the doors, Robb was surprised to see his father.

“Robb?” Ned was shocked; he thought that his oldest son had been killed. Today was turning out to be the best day in a very long time. Ned and Robb embraced and then Rickon joined them and tears were found in all three of their eyes. 

Short versions of all their stories were exchanged, (Ned had been furious to learn that his oldest son had let his youngest daughter go to a city that she had never been before without protection) but before Jon could explain why they were going to Hardhome, Edd came through the door saying that the ships were ready. Jon and Ned said their goodbyes to Rickon and Osha, but Robb followed by Sandor followed them out. 

“Why are you going to save people that have murdered thousands of our people?” Robb watched his brother and father climb aboard the leading ship along with a tall, red bearded man dressed in furs.

“Robb I don’t have time to explain everything, even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.” Robb doubted that he wouldn’t believe his brother. He climbed aboard the ship, Sandor cursed but followed and the ship set off from port. “Robb, what are you doing?”

“I just found my brother and my father after years of loss, I’m not losing you again.” Robb was stubborn, Jon wanted to throw him overboard but they would need all the help they could get.

Jon was right; Robb didn’t believe him, who could? An army of dead men, white walkers, was preposterous, a scary story told to children to get them to behave. Jon was adamant that the stories were tur and that was why they were going north, to save the rest of the wildlings from becoming part of the army. It seemed a far-fetched story but what was he supposed to know, he had never been beyond the wall, Jon had. So he followed his brother beyond the wall that he thought he would never cross. 

Jon was worried he was making the wrong decision until he saw the camp at Hardhome. He saw children playing, smoke coming out of wooden huts, he saw people interacting. This was a society and a people just like any other. There were thousands of them, men, women and children. They had lives and loved ones, was it right to leave them to their deaths when they had done nothing to deserve it? No.

For the first time in his life he would be fighting alongside his brother with Jon as the leader and Robb as the follower. He and Tormund couldn’t convince everyone, most wanted to kill Jon, but many wanted the new life that Jon promised them. They loaded up the ships, rowed back and forth with only about a 1/10 of the Free Folk. Even with two extra men, they couldn’t save many more people 

Then the dead attacked and all of the men that had accompanied Jon from the watch watched in horror as all of their nightmares came to be true. His brother and his father and even the burned man from the south couldn’t believe that it was all true. 

It was a horrible fight, of men form the watch and free folk joined together against dead that never stopped no matter how many times they were hit. It was a hard lesson to learn but still they learned.

1\. Valyrian steel wouldn’t shatter against their weapons so they would need more.  
2\. Wights couldn’t swim.  
3\. The man with the frozen crown could raise the dead. 

At the last-minute Jon made a decision that could either ruin them all or provide them with the proof they needed to get people to believe them. To capture a wight and bring it south so everyone could see and begin the fight to save every human. 

In the end they lost so many more people than they saved. Thousands joined the ranks of the dead and Jon saw it before his very eyes. 

“I just saw thousands upon thousands of men, women and children die because I couldn’t save them. We have been fighting this war between us for thousands of years and for what, a deep seated hatred between us that will prevent us from coming together?” 

When they came back to Castle Black after nearly a week of fighting and traveling, but their mission had been a success. 

The minute they entered the courtyard of Castle Black, Jon’s heart stopped. There in the center of the space laid his dear uncle on a pyre of wood about to be set aflame. Jon immediately went over to his body, tears forming in his eyes. 

Sam came up behind him, “I’m sorry Jon, he went in the night, only a few nights ago. We waited for you to come back, I thought that you would want to be here.” Jon nodded his thanks and Sam walked away leaving the last Targaryen in Westeros to mourn. 

Ned came up to his uncle, followed by his two brothers, both of which had never met Aemon, but tried to support their dear brother whom they loved, though they didn’t understand why their brother was that affected.

Sam spoke for Aemon’s funeral, Jon could barely hear a thing over the thoughts and grief that surrounded him. Of course he knew that his uncle would die, he had been very old and sick, it was a miracle that he lasted as long as he did. 

It felt strange, for most of his life he had thought of himself as less than a Stark only to find out that he was a true born Targaryen with blood relatives. Now that Aemon was gone, Jon only had one other relative from his father’s side and she lived on the other side of the world and he would probably never meet her. 

They had let the free folk pass through the gates, out onto the gift where they could be safe from the dead. His uncle had talked his youngest son into going with them as Castle Black was too dangerous at that time for him to stay in safely. He had been living outside with a wildling woman for years, he was practically a wildling. 

Even with the captured wight, the men of the watch still hated him, even more than before. The men now saw the kind of threat that they all faced and still it was not enough to displace their hate. They now believed that the wall had been their protection from the dead and now that Jon had brought the free folk south, that the wights would follow and doom them all.

*********  
Davos (A snapshot)

Davos was now frightened of his king, the man that he followed. Stannis had become crazed in the years since Robert’s death, pushed on by the red witch. He didn’t listen to reason anymore, he was on a suicide mission. 

He was convinced that he was the prince that was promised, encouraged by visions that what Davos could tell, were not of Stannis but only of a man with a sword of flames and king’s blood. 

He was worried, Stannis was getting desperate and desperate men did anything they could to win. They pressed on even when they should have backed away. Stannis was so far passed the man he had been only a year ago, that Davos couldn’t see the man that he followed. 

When Stannis had first suggested going to the north and fighting the way down, Davos had been supportive. The north was the largest kingdom with a whole bunch of people who hated the Lannisters. It made sense. Though he had heard of the suspicious northerners who only supported their own, he was surprised at the tenacity of them. They were cold and they were hard, only to follow if you were a Stark or if you had proved yourself beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

He had a feeling that something bad was going to happen in the camp, something to do with the bloody red witch. He had to convince Stannis to let him take Shireen back to Caste Black where she could be safe and warm. 

Later that day, after meeting with Stannis, who had relented and was now allowing his only child; go with Davos back to the castle for food and supplies. They headed out on two horses the next morning, wrapped in cloaks to ward off the cold winter day. 

***********  
They had been home for only a few days when Ser Davos and the Princess Shireen returned to the castle and the request by Stannis for more supplies and horses. Jon told him that they couldn’t help, that it was not their responsibility to engage in the wars of the south. The next day, as Davos and the princess were set to go back to their camp, Melisandre arrived with the news of the defeat and death of Stannis.

Sam, Gilly and little Sam had left for the south, leaving Jon with one less friend he could trust, but he had gained his brother and a surly man who curse a lot and complained about the cold. Robb was still shaken by what he had seen beyond the wall, still wondering if he was really dead and this was all in his version of the afterlife. 

Robb and Ned had decided to go see Rickon at the free folk camp along with Nymeria. Jon had opted out of the outing, citing that he had already been gone too long from his post.

That night as Jon sat alone in his chambers, reading scrolls of news from the kingdoms, he was told that his uncle Benjen had returned after years of being lost beyond the wall. He told Olly to send word to his father and brothers immediately as he went to see his uncle, but instead of his uncle he saw a stake with the word traitor on it.

He turned around and watched as his sworn brothers each stabbed him and said, “For the watch”. As he kneeled on the ground, gasping past the pain, a final blow was struck, little Olly, who reminded him so much of his own little brothers, plunged a knife into his heart.

They all disbanded and left Jon to bleed out and die on the snow-covered ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Robb and Rickon? Family reunion time!!
> 
> Yes, Jon was murdered, he had to be reborn as a Targaryen, but upside Shireen wasn't killed. Yay!!!
> 
> Sorry about that, I guess I wasn't paying enough attention to what I was writing.


	15. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Jon has died, but what happened while he was dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Wow, this never happens:)

After the immense pain of dying Jon awoke, but he was no longer in Castle Black. He stood in the courtyard of Winterfell with a battle waging around him, frozen in time. 

He saw his sister Arya with the sword he had given her in one hand and in the other was a long shaft of dark stone which he identified as dragon glass. She had blood dripping down her face from a cut at her hairline, and a dark stain of blood on her arm. She was fighting like a she-wolf, strong and proud, fighting three wights at the same time. 

He saw two small dragons, one red and one blue, flying around the courtyard setting fire to all the dead. He wondered about these dragons, felt a certain attachment to them. It was the first time he had ever seen dragons and they did not disappoint.

Up on the battlements he saw hundreds of archers, half with flaming arrows and half with black tipped arrows. A red haired woman was leading the battlement with a bow in her hands.

Outside the walls he came upon people he knew and those he didn’t fighting wights from every direction. Above in the sky he saw three large dragons with a white speck on the large back dragon’s back. They looked as if they were engaged in a dueling battle in the sky. 

He walked among the soldiers frozen in their fight, some with dragon glass weapons and some with spears and some with swords. It was a mixture of everyone, light skinned and dark, men and women, north and south, east and west. Then, as if in the very middle of the battle he saw himself. He was bleeding from wounds to his head and legs, barely standing on his own. He was facing the very thing that brought the war that waged around him, the night king. 

As he watched, the figures moved in slow motion, but only the figures of himself and the night king. They fought, Jon getting knocked down and wounded but always getting back up. A sword got knocked out of his hands, a sword that wasn’t long claw but he could feel the power emanating from it, a sword even more powerful than his own. He grabbed a small dagger of dragon glass from his boot, going after the man, but that two was knocked out of his hand. He and the shard were separated, Jon landing closer to his sword. The night king picked up the shard of dragon glass and as Jon watched, he crushed it in his hand. By some magic stroke of destiny or hope, the night king froze while Jon was still moving, and Jon picked up his sword and drove it through the night king’s chest.

Surrounding him, everything dropped away, the living and the dead. He was surrounded by white swirling snow and the two bodies in front of him. Words, that came from no one’s mouth spoke then, “Only death can pay for life.” He didn’t understand the words, but he soon did. 

His body fighting the night king dropped to the ground. Both bodies dying.

He understood then, the only way the fight ended as if someone gave his live for it, and it would be him. As soon as he defeated the night king, if he defeated him, he would die as well. Only death can pay for life and his death would pay for the lives of all his people.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was in a dark red room. 

He stood before a collection of stairs leading up to a throne of swords. He knew in that moment that it was the iron throne, forged by Aegon’s dragons. The throne that men and women had died for, the throne that was only a symbol of power and a chance to hoard it over others.

He heard a sound to his left and there stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They stared at each other, his grey eyes matching her purple, his black hair contrasting with her silver. He knew it was his aunt, a woman he had knew seen nor knew anything about besides what he had garnered from uncle Aemon.

Looking away from her, they climbed the steps to the throne together, coming to a stop mere inches away. Jon felt heat coming from the metal throne, a heat he had never felt before. He reached out his hand to feel the heat and when he laid his hand on it, it felt as if all his blood surged to the surface. It was a feeling that he had felt before only never to that extent, it was he same feeling he got every time he picked up longclaw.

He knew what they meant, knew what the throne was made off. He knew what he had to do. 

He had to get the throne. His aunt beside him reached out her hand as well, he knew that she felt the same as him but that she didn’t know why. She didn’t understand the importance.

“Do you know what this is?”

“The iron throne. It was built by our family centuries ago.” She said with a satisfied smile on her face.

“Its not just iron, it’s valyrain steel. It has the blood of dragons in it, that’s why it feels hot to our touch.” Daenerys gasped though she didn’t fully understand the implications of the knowledge. 

“What does Valyrian steel do?”

“It can help us win the Long Night.” With his mind made up, Jon knew that he needed the throne to save everyone. He had to destroy it. “I need the throne.” He looked into his aunt’s eyes but they only held fear.

“Why?”

“I need to melt it down to forge as many swords as we can.” She looked disturbed at the thought of destroying something that she had worked almost her entire life for, what she had sacrificed for.

“You would destroy it?”

Jon was angry and confused at this woman he had never met but shared a connection with. “That throne has caused so many people to lose their lives. It makes it right that it should help save the realm.” He knew she didn’t understand, she had never seen the army of the dead, she didn’t know the dangers that faced them. 

He looked down at his body, noticing for the first time that he only stood before her in black breeches and boots with his black cloak around his shoulders. His chest was bare and the wounds that had killed him were on display. He looked down at the wounds, noticing the deep, red, angry cuts that he couldn’t feel. 

His aunt reached out her hand to touch the crescent wound over his heart, the one that had killed him, the one that Olly had done. He closed his eyes to the sensation of her touching his chest but as soon as her fingertips touched it, she gasped in pain and then everything turned dark and quite.

Jon opened his eyes, this time in a stone room that he had never been in before. 

He looked around the room, noticing different objects laying around. He saw a golden harp sitting partially behind a chair. A small chest with the Targaryen sigil on the top, sat at the foot of the bed. On the table laid several sheets of paper, but Jon didn’t have time to read them.

A woman appeared through the only door to the room, a woman with black hair and a long face who looked younger than him. She wore a grey dress with a white dire wolf embroidered in the center of her chest. Jon didn’t have to ask her name to know who she was, she was his mother. 

They rushed toward each other, both of them finally embracing the person they most wanted to know. There were tears running down both of their faces. Jon had never before been lucky enough to meet his mother and his mother had only seen her son for a few moments before she died. She was warm and safe, a contrast to what they both were, dead.

They pulled back from each other and Jon saw that a young man had appeared, a man with long silver hair and purple eyes. He wore red armor with a black three headed dragon, each of the dragon head had a red ruby eye. Just like with his mother, Jon immediately found out that he knew who the man was, his father. Rhaegar Targaryen embraced his wife and the son he had never gotten a chance to meet.

Jon pulled away from his parents, his hands clasped with his mother’s as his father pulled his mother to his side. 

“My beautiful boy.” Her voice was as he imagined, the voice of a loving mother. 

He looked into his mother’s face, committing everything to his memory, “Mother?” He then looked to his father’s, “Father?” He noticed that he had his mother’s eyes and mouth, his father’s nose and cheekbones and the combination of his mother and father’s hair. 

Jon spoke to his mother, but his words were for the both of them. Though he had had a father all his life, the man who raised him, he had never known a mother. “I never thought that I would ever see you or at least not until I died.”

“My son murdered by mutineers, for wanting to protect his people. They deserve to burn for what they have done.” Fire flashed in his father’s purple eyes, though he was dead. A murderous look on his face that spoke as if he would raise from the dead to avenge his son.

“They will die by the dragonwolf’s hand.” His mother’s fierce tone would have scared him had it been him who had betrayed his lord commander.

“I’m dead, I can’t do anything now.” Jon didn’t understand why his mother was talking about how he would get revenge, he was dead. 

His mother grabbed his face in her hands, looking him in the eye. “The gods have plans for you. You are the song of ice and fire. It is your destiny to defeat the Night king.” 

“How?” 

It was his father who answered, “Gather the houses of Westeros, you will need everyone’s help. Send for your aunt across the Narrow Sea, she will have an enormous army.”

“I’m so tired, I don’t wanna fight anymore.” Jon looked down to his feet ashamed that he had admitted his cowardice to his fierce parents, worried that they would judge him.

Tears filled his mother’s eyes again, and she gently forced his chin up to look at her. “I know you are tired. I know that you have gone through so much in our short life, having to hold the burden on your shoulders. I wouldn’t blame you not wanting to go back, but they need you. You are the only one that can unite everyone, the only one who can defeat him.” 

His eyes met his father’s once more. “Know that I am so proud of you and everything you have done. Your uncle raised a wonderful man. You will be the king that Westeros has needed for centuries, the king I was supposed to be. I love you my son.” His father hugged him tight for several minutes, not wanting to ever let go. When he did, tears were glistening in his eyes. 

“Rise my son, it is not your time yet,” his mother urged him but he didn’t want to leave, he never wanted to leave his mother again. His mother seemed to understand that he was reluctant to leave her, she hugged him tight to her breast one last time before letting him go. “Know, that we are always with you, we have been watching over you all your life. Open your eyes.” Jon didn’t understand his eyes were already open; he was looking her in the eyes. “Open your eyes my love.” Jon’s eyelids felt extremely heavy like they would close of their own account, but he forced them to stay open. He didn’t want to leave; he had finally found his mother. All around him objects were disappearing until only he, his mother and his father were surrounded by darkness. “Open your eyes.” Jon finally closed his eyes and slipped into the darkness.

***************  
At the free folk camp, Ned and Robb watched Rickon spar with a wildling, laughing and cheering him on. It felt good to have more of his family back, for them to laugh and tall like the end of the world wasn’t coming. 

Though neither Ned nor Robb had ever spent much time with the free folk, Rickon and Jon had and they had vouched for them. Ned and Robb had gotten to know the red haired man on the way up to Hardhome, he was a crass man who fought like a giant but he was a good man. 

Tormoud had regaled them with stories of the free folk and a few stories of Jon when he had been a free man. They laughed and talked for hours, sitting around the campfire until they would go back to Castle Black. 

All of a sudden Nymeria got up and started howling; Shaggydog soon followed and ran off, back in the direction of the castle. Ned got a bad feeling in his chest and soon followed the wolves on his horse, Robb and Tormoud at his heels. Rickon wanted to join them, but was held back by Osha. 

When they got back they found the courtyard free of people. Nymeria and Shaggdog were crawling and howling at a locked door. They went to open it and found Ghost. The albino dire wolf, had nearly chewed through the wood. Ghost, closely followed by his siblings went straight to the Jon’s chambers.

Robb looked around at the empty courtyard, finding a large dark stain on the snow in from of a stake. Robb pointed it out to his father, whose bad feeling had turned into a horrible assumption. The door was locked and bared. Ned knocked on the door and asked to be let in. 

When the door did open, no imagination could have prepared him for the sight. He saw his son laying on his cleared desk with stab wounds in his chest. Robb and Ned rushed to his side, tears forming in their eyes and sobs coming from their chests. Jon’s eyes were open, glassy and unseeing. Ghost, for the first time in his life howled and whimpered, nosing at Jon’s shoulder.

The family didn’t care that there were men surrounding them, who grieved in their own right. Sandor, Tormoud, Edd, Davos and all the rest of the men who had gone to Hardhome. 

Ned, who had dreamed of this very moment, was defeated. He had failed his son, his sister and his nephew. He grieved for all three. “I’m sorry, Lyanna, I failed you.” Ned whispered but his son had heard him.

Robb which tears running down his face looked toward his father, not understanding the significance. “Lyanna?” Why would his father mention his dead aunt’s name, the aunt that had died born Jon and Robb were even born.

Ned didn’t raise his face but internally he groaned. After years of keeping the secret, he had just admitted it out loud to a room full of people he didn’t trust with the information. But Jon was dead now, the truth of his birth couldn’t hurt him now. “Jon’s mother.”

“Aunt Lyanna?” Robb had a disgusted tone in his voice and a disgusted look on his face. 

“I am not Jon’s father.” His revelation shocked the entire room into dead silence. Almost everyone coming to the same conclusion, everyone except Robb. 

He knew his father would never lie to him, wouldn’t have lied to him all of his life. Jon was his brother, his father’s son. Everyone had commented on how Jon had looked just like him. “Father?” Robb didn’t understand.

Ned still had his eyes closed, clutching Jon’s hand to his forehead. “He is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna.”

“What? But Rhaegar kidnapped-“ 

Robb didn’t finish his statement before his father interrupted him, finally looking up. He stroked Jon’s hair back from his face and then turned to his son. “He didn’t kidnap her... That was a lie spread by Robert, she ran away. She had refused to marry Robert so she left in the middle of the night and went down to Dorne. They were married there.”

“Married? Aunt Lyanna was his second wife?” Robb was confused, through his lesson he had learned that Rhaegar Targaryen had married Elia Martell in the light of the seven. The new gods didn’t condone a second wife. 

“Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia before marrying Lyanna.”

“But that means-“ Questions and answers flew around Robb’s brain, trying to come to terms with something he never would have believed had his father not told him. If Jon was the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he was the heir to the iron throne. Jon was the king.

“Yes.”

“Jon is the king, the true king.” Robb whispered in to the quiet room, everyone had been shocked into a silenced comparable with death. The death of a king who had never been a king.

“He was.” 

“Did he know?”

Ned didn’t speak, he only nodded.

Robb was angry, angry at his father for lying to everyone, angry at Jon for dying, angry at the world for everything that had happened. “Father, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I couldn’t risk anyone in the south finding out, especially Robert.” Though Robb was close to screaming, Ned’s voice was calm and sober. 

“You could have told us the truth, that Rhaegar didn’t kidnap Lyanna.” Robb was sure that if his father had only told the people of the north, none of this would have happened. Jon wouldn’t have gone to the wall. Robb wouldn’t have gone to the Twins to get married and his mother wouldn’t have died…

“I had thought that during the war, everyone did. I shouldn’t have, I knew that Lyanna wouldn’t have allowed herself to be kidnapped. I learned the truth when I went to Dorne.” Ned paused for a few moments before continuing. “Honestly, I couldn’t risk the backlash. Robert had told that lie in an effort to fuel the rebellion, though he only did it because of a wounded ego. He never loved her, he was infatuated with her. If I had told the truth to the north, they might have figured out that Jon was not my son but the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar.” He didn’t mention that if Robert had known he would have had Jon killed, he didn’t have to, everyone knew what would have happened. 

“You could have told us, the family.” Their family had always been brought up to value honesty and loyalty. His mother’s words were Family, Duty, Honor. How could his father not have trusted them?

Ned sighed, he had been expecting these questions for years and no matter how many times he had answered them in his head, it was never easy. “I couldn’t risk it. If any of you had slipped up, we all would have died, Jon, you, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, all of Winterfell.”

“What about mother? Why didn’t you ever tell her? After how she treated Jon for years?” Robb was horrified. He knew that Jon had always been afraid of his mother, that everything she had done to him had been because of his birth. Because she believed that her husband had broken his vows. All the years that Jon had suffered, he had not deserved it, he had not deserved any of it. 

“When I first brought him home, I didn’t trust her. She was from the south and it had been an arranged marriage. I could have told her years later but then I was afraid that she might have started treating him different, calling attention to us. I couldn’t risk it.” He mentioned risk so many times, it’s like it lost its value. Robb turned away from his father, not able to stand looking at the man that had allowed everything to happen to their family. The men sat around Jon’s body for hours, barely a word spoken between them while Tormund had gone to speak with the free people. 

There was a knock on the door, but it was not Tormund’s voice that came through the door. It was Ser Alliser who demanded that they surrender by nightfall or there would be a fight. There was a discussion of what to do for several minutes until there was a loud commotion coming through the door. There was screaming and shouts of wildlings attacking. 

Robb ran out the door to look, Sandor at his heels. Men in black were running all around, looking as if they were reading for a fight. They overhead two men talking while putting on armor, “I knew that letting those savages south of the border was a terrible idea. They are going to murder us in our sleep.”

Robb grew hopeful for the first time since hearing of his brother’s death. The free folk, they came. 

Above the gate in the crosswalk, men with cross bows were getting ready to fire down below, Robb ran over there not thinking about what he was doing. He took out his sword and started disarming the men, Sandor fighting alongside him. They had to hold the top of the gate long enough for the wildlings to break through. They had a large tree trunk below and twenty men ramming it into the door. 

It took at least twenty minutes for them to break through, enough time for Robb and Sandor to be under heavy fire, other men from the watch joining them in their fight. Once they had broken through, war had broken out, screaming and fire surrounded them. Up on the wall a horn blew three times, startling all of the men present. With the distraction, all of the night’s watch men fighting against the free folk were disarmed and grabbed in a headlock. 

Shouts broke out about the dead army coming. All the men were running around until one by one they stopped, all looking towards the young woman with a sled at her feet at the entrance to the tunnel through the wall. No one had let them through, no one had even seen them. 

Silently she turned the sled around and in it sat a young boy with long dark auburn hair. Robb almost couldn’t believe it. It looked like Bran, which was impossible. Bran had disappeared years ago without a whisper to go on. 

Robb rushed forwards, “Bran?”

“Yes brother, it is I.” Robb had knelt down to hug his little brother, but the hug was cold and impersonal. Not the type of familial hug you would except having not seen someone for years.

“Where have you been?” Robb was extremely curious and outraged. Where had he gone, they had looked for him for years.

“Beyond the wall.” It was a short answer, not nearly as satisfactory answer as he would have wanted. “There is enough time for that later, take me to see Jon.”

“Bran, Jon is-“

“Dead. I know, take me to his body.” Robb silently asked Sandor to carry the boy to Jon’s former chambers, the young woman following behind him with a thin, long shaped package in her hands. When they reached the chambers, Ned was still clutching Jon’s hand with tears still running from his eyes.

“Father.” Robb started slowly and quietly, not wanting to scare his father. When Ned turned, he was shocked silent. He couldn’t say a thing, not even hello. Sandor carried Bran to a chair next to the table, placing him in it then turning around and leaving the room, leaving the Starks and the young woman alone.

Bran started talking, breaking everyone out of their stupor. “We need to build a pyre as soon as possible.”

“Bran? What have you been doing all these years? How did you get beyond the wall? Why would you go beyond the wall?”

“These questions are not important right now. We need a pyre now.” Robb realized that none of his questions were going to be answered until Bran got what he wished. He ran outside to tell everyone to gather wood. Still inside the office, Ned was still shocked, not comprehending everything that was happening. Robb came back inside to ask his questions again but before he could, Bran cut him off. “Do not ask at this moment, there are more important things to do. When the pyre is built, lay Jon’s body on it and stick this sword in the ground at his feet.” Ban pointed towards the woman holding the package, slowly unwrapping it to reveal a sword. A dark dirty sword, but still beautiful.

“Why?” It was the first word that Ned had spoken in hours. 

“Just do it.” Bran then sat back, not reacting to any questions until everything was done. 

It did not take long before a pyre was built. The sun had set and a cold wind had piced up from the east. With all of the men surrounding the pyre, Sandor and Tormund carried Jon’s body to the fire, setting it in the middle. They stepped back, leaving room for Robb and Ned to light each end of the pyre. There were no tears running down their faces, only long sad looks. The red woman, standing next to Bran gasped, seeing something in the fire that brought a smile to her face.

As the fire burned, the men all watched. All of a sudden the sword stuck into the ground at the foot of the pyre burst into flame. No one knew what to make of the flaming sword, all but Melisandre and Bran. Melisandre was stunned, she had said no spells, done no sacrifice and yet this sword became Lightbringer. She faintly remembered when she had thought Stannis Baratheon the prince that was promised but now she knew she had been wrong. In the ancient books, it's written that a warrior will draw a burning sword from the fire. And that sword shall be Lightbringer. Stannis Baratheon, Warrior of Light, your sword awaits you. Lord, cast your light upon us! For the night is dark and full of terrors. For the night is dark and full of terror. Stannis Baratheon was not the warrior of light, Jon Snow was.

Bran looked towards the sky and many people followed his eye line up to a blood red comet that soared across the sky. That comet signified that a dragon had returned to the earth. A scream pierced the silent night and all those who had looked at the comet, returned their eyes to the pyre and the phenomenon that was taking place.

In the middle of the fiery pyre a man sat up and then stood up. He was not burned and his eyes were not blue. It was Jon back from the dead. 

****************

Barely half a second later he opened them again and was surrounded by fire. He thought that this was another vision but the pain in his chest made him think otherwise. He felt over the wounds that had killed him, not feeling any blood or cuts only half healed scars. 

He reached out to the flames bu they only licking at his skin. It was an odd sensation, it kind of felt like energy giving strength to his body. It didn’t feel like his skin was burning, he felt the heat but it was a pleasant heat not like when his hand had gotten burned years ago. 

When he sat up, his head reached above the flames and he heard screaming. He was on a funeral pyre, just like the one they had used when his uncle Aemon had died. Jon got to his feet on top of the pyre; he looked around and saw a crowd of men in black, his brothers, and a young man in a sled. 

Everyone was shocked, too shocked to move or speak, they had just seen a man rise from the dead, completely untouched by the fire that had been burning for a good while. All the blood had drained from Ser Alliser’s face, he had murdered the son of the man he had supported all his life. 

Jon stepped down from his fiery perch. He was as naked as his name day but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. In front of him stuck in the ground was a flaming sword. It called to him like long claw had but this time it was different, it called to him like the throne had in his dream. 

When he touched the sword the flames went out immediately but it was still hot to the touch. It wasn’t his sword but it felt more right in his hand. Jon still felt like a part of him was missing, a part of fire and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jon was brought back by the gods, not by someone dying. 
> 
> Also, is it weird that I said that the iron throne was actually Valyrian steel? I mean to make steel you have iron heated and carbon added and it was the throne of dragon for a few centuries. Is it a big stretch?


	16. Reports around the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, we meet Dany but it is a very short visit. Then we will meet with the Martells in Dorne. Followed by everyone's favorite assassin.

Dany

After the battle at the fighting pit, Dany and Drogon had flown far away from Maureen. Almost as soon as they landed she passed out on top of Drogon. 

She was sucked into a dream but it felt more like a vision. She was standing in the throne room at the Red Keep, like so many years ago in the House of the Undying. She was dressed all in white, with silver dragon ornaments hanging from her neck and from her hands, like se had been dressed in the fighting pits. 

A sound came from beside her, a slight cough. She turned and saw a man dressed all in black, black pants and a black cloak covered him. 

His cloak parted and she saw that his chest was bare. Wounds all over his chest and stomach, with a crescent scape wound over his heart. She reached out and touched the wound over his heart and almost immediately she gasped out in pain, a crescent scared scar appearing over her own heart. 

She awoke then to a scar over her heart, and a distant memory of her dream. She forgot almost all of it but the memory of young man with curly black hair. She had been lying on the ground with Drogon surrounding her, in a cloud of heat, almost overheating. Above her in the sky shone a red comet, the same comet that had appeared the night her dragons had been born. She knew what it meant, she was no longer the last dragon. She had family out there. 

Dorne

Prince Doran was being escorted around the courtyard by his brother’s lover and their daughter Tyene, a woman he had known for many years. “I always envied Oberyn. He lived. He truly lived. Sailed around the world. Fought men from every country. Lay with the most beautiful women alive.”

Ellaira felt that she had to interject, Oberyn was not a one woman or one-man lover, he was a lover of all. “And men.”

Prince Doran laughed sharply, a laugh that could also be considered a cough. “And men. He experienced everything while I sat here in Dorne trying my best to keep my people alive and well fed.” Ellaria helped him to his wheelchair, exhausted from his walk. “But that is life. We each have our roles. Oberyn was born to be an adventurer. And I was born to rule.” 

“The gods are not fools. You would have been a lousy adventurer. And Oberyn, pfft, he would have been a terrible ruler.”

“Yes, well, he was a hot-headed man with not a care for delicate political matters.” Doran smirked at her and waited several minutes before he ruined her plan for becoming the ruler of Dorne. “Now listen to me, you foolish woman. I could have you killed for murdering Princess Marcella.” Ellaria was shocked, her and her daughter. Doran had known about the poison, he had had a spy on the ship and on the dock. He had known that she had killed Marcella since she took her last breath. “She was a good girl who did not deserve to die, she was under our protection and you deliberately disobeyed me, but we have a greater war coming than just squabbling with the Lannisters.”

All of the guards around them played them no heed, Ellaria looked around her, expecting someone to come out and murder her on sight. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, you never listen, you are run by your temper and your emotions.” Ellaria shrank down to kneel at his feet, looking up at him with confusion in her eyes. “You blame the Lannisters for Oberyn’s death but he was the one that volunteered to fight and then instead of killing the man, he played with him and ended up dead. It was a stupidly foolish thing to do.” 

He held up his hand to her as she was about to open her mouth to speak up for Oberyn, but decided against it. “The Lannisters have always wanted us dead. They are our greatest enemies, we need to strike now.”

“No…We have greater enemies than the Lannisters and great allies that have as many, if not more reasons to hate the Lannisters than us.” 

She was even more confused, who could have been as affected by the Lannisters? “Who?”

“The king.”

Anger grew in her heart, that bastard would not have any qualms about his own family. “The Lannister bastard? He is not-“

Doran cut her off, with words and his hands, “No, the true king. The true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms.”

“Aegon was murdered by Gregor Clegane, the same man that murdered your brother and sister.”

“There were two Aegon’s, Aegon of house Martell and Targaryen, who was murdered and Aegon of house Targaryen and Stark” He let his last word, the name of the house that was hated by the Martells for Rhaegar’s actions, leave his lips slowly. He knew the impact that they would have, he had avoided the truth for years.

The anger that had grown before, grew again. “What?” She practically had fire coming out of her eyes.

“Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia before he married Lyanna Stark.”

“Why would he do that?”

Doran sighed, a sad look on his face. “Because she asked him… Elia could have no more children. Their marriage was a political arrangement and they did not love each other. Aerys grew madder by the hour and there was a constant fear of death. Take your pick of reasons, they are all true.”

“What about Aegon and Rhaenys?” Though they no longer lived, it felt terrible to think that they would have been cast aside by their father. Elia had given her life and body to those children, they deserved the throne. 

“They would still have been Rhaegar’s heirs, but he was convinced that he needed three children. Elia knew everything. She had convinced him to go to Lyanna, to bring her to Dorne for safety. Elia had only gone back to King’s Landing at the request of Aerys and to get her children out, but you know what happened.” Doran eyes shone with unshed tears for his dead sister and children. Elia was such a kind person, soft spoken but still as fierce as any Dornish woman. 

“Oberyn?” Ellaria was again confused, it seemed her confusion never ended. Had Oberyn known? Why didn’t he tell her? Why keep that secret?

“I told him years ago but you know that wouldn’t have stopped him.” She knew that Oberyn did not truly blame the Starks for the deaths of his sister and children, only Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane and the fat man that excused it.

“Who is this boy? Where is he?” There had been no rumors of a secret Targaryen child, only the whispers of Rhaegar’s brother and sister. Where ever this man was, he was excellently hidden.

“You might have heard of him, he’s made quite a name for himself, Jon Snow, known as Ned Stark’s bastard.” She gasped, everyone knew of this boy, the only stain on Ned Stark’s honor. Ned Stark had been Robert’s dearest friend, to hide the son of the woman he had loved who ran off with the man he hated, was a very gutsy thing to do. To hide the heir to the Iron Throne under his nose. “I had heard that to honor her deceased stepson Lyanna named her son after him, but he couldn’t have survived in the north with the name Aegon so his uncle changed it to Jon. I do wish that he had been raised in Dorne, I have heard of the way that northerners treat their bastards, or perceived bastards.” With that Ellaria could not disagree, she was a bastard but she had felt no scorn or lack of love until she had gone north to King’s Landing. “We could have raised him to be king.” 

Ellaria wanted to hear more about the war that Doran had mentioned. Did he mean the war for the iron throne? “This war-“

“Ah, yes, the great war. I heard from a little bird who has heard it from the front line that the war is coming and it is coming soon. House Martell will fight.”

“War against whom?”

“The dead.” With the seriousness of the discussion, she had not expected such a hilarious answer. She scoffed and Tyene started chuckling. Doran’s face became hard and unmoved. “I know you scoff but apparently all the tales from the north are true, come back after thousands of years of slumber.”

Why tell me now?

“Because the other dragon has risen.” At their strange and bewildered faces, he decided to elaborate. “Do you remember the red comet from the east?” She nodded. “That was the beginning of the dragon age, the mother of dragons was born. Did you see the red comet from the north?”

“Yes, very far north.”

“The comet signifies when a dragon is born, or in this case reborn. The mother and father of dragons will defeat this threat and the Targaryen’s will rule again. You will go north, pledge Dorne to the king’s cause.” The sound of a dropped book came from behind them. Ellaria whipped around, cursing herself for getting drawn into the story to the point she had not been keeping track of her surroundings. “Come in Talisa.” His youngest daughter, only one year older than his son Trystene came in. “Why were you evesdropping?”

The dark eyed beauty looked down in shame. “I’m sorry father.” She looked up though with a gleam in her eyes. “I want to go north, to the fight.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I can help and to win this great war we are going to need as much help as possible.” Doran knew that his daughter had an affinity for medicine. She had been studying with the maesters for years.

“Fine. Both of you will go, take 5,000 soldiers and pledge then, I will send more later.” Both Ellaria, Tyene and Talisa turned to leave. “Dress warmly, it is the north after all.” 

 

*******************  
For the last few years, Arya Stark had dedicated her life to becoming a faceless man. She had trained and worked, even become blind in her mission. She had killed many and yet her bloodlust for those who committed crimes against her family remained. She could never truly become no one. 

She was not a killer of those who are innocent like the Crane woman, her victims deserved to die like those on her list. She was not a faceless man to be ordered about by a false god, she was Arya Stark of Winterfell and those who harm the wolves were her prey. 

Now armed with her beloved sword and a few new scars, she had her way back home. Though her stomach still pained her, she could move around and fight if need be. Her wounds that had reopened from her flight from the waif she was able to repair on the ship home.

There was a night about a week before she was to arrive in White harbor that there was a great commotion on the top deck. When Arya came out, every man was looking to the sky at a red comet. They were shocked only once before had they seen such sight, it was odd for there to be two showing so close together in time. 

Arya had heard about the comet in her time at Braavos, an old city settled by people escaping Old Valyria. Though dragons hadn’t been around in over a century, they had not forgotten the sign of a dragon being born. Arya was excited, she had always wanted to see a dragon, had dreamed about it her entire life. 

Before she found the new born dragon, she had work to do.

She spent weeks recuperating and getting back into fighting shape while aboard the ship home. She came in at White Harbor but instead of heading directly home she went south. She had a few names on her list to get rid of first. 

Her first stop was the Twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am nearing the end of my semester, I don't know when I will be updating. It could be a day or two or a week or two. My mom would kill me if she found out I was writing this instead of studying, but I just can't stop!!:)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after Jon woke up?

After Jon had emerged from the fire and held his flaming sword in his hand, Ned had quickly shed his cloak and wrapped it around his nephew’s shoulders. Jon said nothing, but walked up the stairs to his former chambers. The men who had murdered Jon were all put into the cells to await a judgement. 

The next morning after a sleepless night, Ned, Robb, Sandor, Davos, Tormund and Edd gathered in Jon’s chambers. Jon was sitting at his former desk, Ghost and Nymeria at his feet. He had spent the night thinking about his dreams and about everything that had happened to him. He had traced over the now scars on his chest, feeling the pain each time he crossed them. It was not every day that a man rose from the dead. 

The night before, Jon hadn’t spoken to anyone so everyone was bursting with questions. Ned spoke first, his right as the man who raised him, “How do you feel?”

“I don’t feel anything. I mean I’m alive and I don’t know how.” It was the first time he had spoken since he had awoken, his voice was gravely and weak. 

Davos spoke next, “What do you remember?”

Jon’s face feel, remembering the feel of the knives going into his chest, feeling the pain and then not feeling anything. “They stabbed me.” Most of the men he understood as wanting to kill him, but Olly had been a surprise and a betrayal. He still couldn’t quite grasp why.

Robb spoke this time, curious as to what might be beyond death. “Did anything happen?... Did you go anywhere?”

Jon nodded, his voice going soft, so soft everyone had to strain to he what he said. “I saw my parents.” Ned gasped and sat back in his seat, tears coming to his eyes. Everyone else in the room reacted to the news, visibly stepping back while also leaning forward being extremely curious. 

Davos spoke again. “You were dead. And now you're not. That's completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you.”

Jon shook his head, still not quite believing everything that had happened. “I did what I thought was right. And I got murdered for it. And now I’m back.”

In the corner of the room, Sandor spoke up. “I saw a man die and then come back. Completely fucking mad.” Robb started to berate him, but Jon waved him off. 

Jon was curious, he had never heard of any person coming back from the dead. “How did he come back?” 

“Had a fuckin red witch or whatever the fuck the man was. He said it was like the sixth time he had been brought back.” Six times? He was shocked, how could anyone come back six times?

“What? How?”

“How the fuck should I know. Ask the fuckin red woman, she’s one of those freaks.” Sandor, as usual was crass and loud. He watched the burned man shake his head and settle even farther away from Jon, as if Jon was going to burst into flame at any time. 

Jon turned away from the man and thought about the idea that he could ask Melisandre. 

Edd finally spoke up, “Your eyes aren’t blue, so that’s good. Though they do look lighter.”

Ned grabbed Jon’s face, turning it so his eyes would catch the limited lighting. “By gods, they are. You’ve got purple in your eyes now.”

Jon looked at him disbelieving. Why would his eyes have changed?

Their conversation didn’t last much longer; Jon like before he died wasn’t much of a talker. The men asked him different questions but his answers were minimal. 

After everyone had left, Ned had stayed. He had tears in his eyes, Jon went over to his uncle knowing that it would be hard for him to express his emotions. “I’m so sorry. I promised your mother that I would protect you. I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. I was killed because of my own actions, my own decisions. There is nothing you could have done; I would still have been killed.” Jon understood his role now. At first he had been angry at his murder and he still held anger but he know knew it was his destiny.

Ned shook his head, not believing that his nephew was meant to die. “I failed you.”

“No.” He still shook his head, but Jon kept talking. “I think I was supposed to die.”

He shook his head violently. “Don’t even say that, it is not true.” 

Jon held up his hand, stopping his uncle from continuing. “Listen, a few years ago, I had touched a fire and my hand burned, you’ve seen it. Yesterday I walked out of a fire, feeling nothing. I think I was reborn.”

“What?” He didn’t understand and Jon knew that he needed to explain more.

“You remember the old stories of the Targaryen’s who rode dragons? They could touch fire and remain unburnt. I was reborn with the blood of the dragon.” 

******  
Jon had wondered if he should talk with his betrayers, more specifically with the orchestrator, Ser Alliser. He knew the story, that Ser Alliser had been a loyal supporter of the Targaryen’s and had been sent to the wall because of it. He wrestled with that choice, should he talk to the man who killed him just because he had supported his family. Would he still have killed Jon if he had known? Would his loyalty to the Targaryen’s have been stronger that his loyalty to the watch? 

As Lord Commander and now as King, he would have many tough decisions to make and this was not one he wanted to stress over. His men had murdered him because they didn’t believe that his decision was right. They didn’t know that he was going to come back and hang them. He would have to do what he thought was right. 

In the end he decided against speaking to his betrayer. It would still have been too fresh and he knew why they had done it. Nothing he said would have changed any decisions and Jon didn’t want to rub his heritage in the face of the man he was going to hang. He didn’t know if he was making the right decision but he knew that he could lie with it long after Ser Alliser’s body would be burned. 

The next day passed quickly before it became time for the execution. Ned, Robb and Rickon watched Jon hang the traitors. Rickon looking away at the last moment. Though he spent half of his life living in the woods and with a wildling, he still didn’t like killing, and watching the boy around his own age hang for killing Jon was difficult to watch.

After Jon gave his signature black cloak to Edd, naming him the new Lord Commander, he walked away, his father and brothers following him. His watch had ended; it was now time for the king to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is a short chapter but I wanted to do something special for finishing my first final. Only 3 exams and a paper left to do!! I know that I should be studying but I needed a break.


	18. Chapter 18

So like the absolute worst thing to happen to a fanfiction story happened, my hard drive crashed and I lost everything a few days ago. I had had like four chapters that I had ready to upload but then I lost everything. Its been a really difficult time. I really loved my chapters and im trying to work up the will to write other ones but it might take awhile. I'm sorry. I was even working on a new story idea and i completely lost everything for that too.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the long delay. I was working on my other story and still trying to remember what my original chapter had said. It didn't turn out exactly as good as it had been before the data loss but its okay. I hop you like it.
> 
> Someone leaves and someone enters Castle Black, but who?

Jon found Melisandre on top of the wall, looking out over the lands of forever winter. After she had been unhelpful in helping him understand his death, it had been strained between them. “I heard that you are leaving.”

The beautiful, red haired woman glanced at him over her shoulder. “My work here is done.” She turned away from the endless land of cold and followed him back to the lift.

Jon opened the gates and ushered her into the cage, once they were both inside he signaled for the operator to have them descend. “Where will you go?”

She smiled at him as if she knew that he would ask that question. “Essos. It would be nice not to be around so much snow.” 

Jon nodded his head, accepting that as a good excuse, if he didn’t have a mission to accomplish, it would have been nice to go somewhere where there was no winter. “I wish you well in your journey.”

She gave him an odd look at his statement like she couldn’t understand why he would say such a thing to her. “Why? I killed Mance Rayder and I misled Stannis to his death.”

“We all do things that we are not proud of, things that we wish we could change, but we can’t. The only thing we can do moving forward is try not to make those same mistakes.

Her look of confusion faded away into a look of thanks, “You will be a good king, Aegon Targaryen.” The lift had stopped and Jon stepped forward to open the gates for her and escorted her down to the opened gate and waiting horse. 

“Jon.” He immediately answered. He hadn’t yet decided whether he would be called Aegon or maybe choose another name. It felt strange to be called the same name as his brother, a child killed before Jon was even born. He had been killed because of his name and his blood. He waited as she stepped up onto the horse and situated herself.

She nodded her head at him with a small smile on her face. “Jon.” And then she urged her mount forward, away from the cold, dark castle.

As Jon watched Melisandre ride off towards Eastwatch, the horns blew announcing new arrivals. Since no one was behind the wall, Jon knew that it was people coming from the south. For several minutes he worried that somehow the news of his death and resurrection had left Castle Black. He gripped the sword at his side, ready to defend himself if necessary. 

A small party of three rode into the courtyard, a large, shorthaired woman was leading the charge followed by a young man and between them rode a person with a hood over their head. The men gathered around them, Jon feeling Robb, Rickon and Ned come up behind him. The hooded figure descended off their horse fast, practically jumping off and shoved the hood back from their head and it was Sansa.

For a long moment everyone was shocked and then one by one they are rushed forward to grab Sansa. Jon held back for several minutes, not knowing if Sansa would treat him like she had when they were younger. After she had hugged and kissed every other family member, Sansa made her way to her bother and hugged him tight. Jon didn’t move for several minutes until he wrapped his arms around his little sister.

For the rest of the day the six of them all sat in Jon’s office recounting their stories and catching up. Jon could tell that Sansa was hiding something, she was a bit off even for not seeing her for several years. The rest of his family didn’t seem to see it so he kept quiet, just listening to them. They talked about Arya for several minutes, Sansa ashamed that she didn’t know where her sister was after everything had happened in King’s Landing but visibly relaxed when Robb told her she was safe.

They talked well into the afternoon, eating and drinking happily for the first time in months. Sansa was exhausted, she hadn’t had a good night’s rest since she left Winterfell for the capital years ago. For the first time in years she would finally feel safe enough to relax, surrounded by her family. For some reason when she tried to sleep she couldn’t shut out the voices inside her head. 

She got out of her bed in search of something to help her sleep maybe some wine or ale. When she walked into the dining hall, she had thought it empty at first but as she looked closer she saw a dark outline next to the blazing fire. As she came closer she saw that it was her brother Jon, only now he wasn’t her brother, he was her cousin and the true king of the seven kingdoms.

She didn’t want to startle him, but she expected that he already knew that it was her coming up behind him. She could see Ghost and Nymeria curled up around each other fast asleep. He looked up at her as she came up to his side. He was holding a flagon made out of bone.

“May I sit, your grace?” She smiled at him as he rolled his eyes at her formal address. 

He motioned for her to take any of the seats surrounding the fire. She had thought it cold at Winterfell with the snows and then she had thought it cold traveling to the wall but nothing had prepared her for the bone, chilling atmosphere of the wall. “You don’t have to call me your grace.” She smiled at him and held up her hands to the fire to try to warm them up a bit. They sat in silence for several minutes before Jon broke it. “We never should have left Winterfell. Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left?” 

Sansa looked at him for a moment to determine if he really wished to go back to a time when he was known as the bastard of Winterfell and treated as such. He didn’t look any different and she remembered hearing of everything that he had gone through. Perhaps he really did wish to go back to that time, she knew that she did. “I want to scream at myself, ‘Don't go, you idiot.’”

“How could we know?”

“I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. I wish I could change everything.”

“We were children.”

“I was awful, just admit it.” She said loudly and Jon chuckled but then much quieter as if she said it to herself, “I can’t believe that I was awful to the true king of Westeros. If the twelve-year-old version of myself could see us now.” Jon stopped laughing, sensing how serious they were about to become, he didn’t want it to get awkward and cold so he spoke up. 

“You were occasionally awful. I'm sure I can't have been great fun. Always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played.” He tried to lighten the mood by trying to make a joke of their childhood but it only served to make the moment worse.

Sansa looked on the verge of tears. “Can you forgive me?”

“There's nothing to forgive.” And honestly, he believed that, especially with Sansa. She was never an evil person, she was just a child who believed everything her mother told her. She had been a full Tully and yet now she sat there beside him a Stark. 

“Forgive me.” She asked again with less tears and more of a smile on her face. 

“All right.” He finally gave her what she wanted, “All right, I forgive you.” Sansa smiled and softly laughed. Jon took another drink, used to the strong smell and taste. She reached for the cup curious as to the drink inside. 

As she was about to take a sip, Jon wanted to warn her but he didn’t. In a way it kind of felt like light revenge, pay back for the pain that he had felt as a child. She grimaced and coughed, almost spitting the revolting drink back into the cup. 

Jon laughed at her face and took the drink back. “You'd think after thousands of years; the Night's Watch would have learned how to make a good ale.”

They sat in silence for several minutes both just looking at the flames. Sansa broke the silence, finally voicing the question she had had on the tip of her tongue since she heard about Jon. “Father told me what happened.” She didn’t have to say anything else, Jon already knew to what she was referring. He looked over at her and saw that she was having an internal debate with herself, probably over other questions she didn’t think were appropriate. He made a small gesture with his hands and encouraged her to voice her burning question. “Can I see them?”

She looked away from his eyes almost immediately after asking him as if she was embarrassed at her question. Jon thought it over for a minute, wondering what he should say. In the end he didn’t say anything he merely unlaced his doublet and pulled it over his chest then raise the end of his tunic up his chest. 

Sansa didn’t say a thing as she took in the scars. As she reached out and touched one she had a look of confusion on her face like she didn’t quite understand what had happened. Jon was about to explain it to her but his words died in his throat as he watched her pull up one of her sleeves. They were tight so it took a bit of time and determination but eventually she had pulled her sleeve up to her elbow and rolled her arms around in front of the fire. 

Jon could see raised marks all over her forearm, marks like scars. He about reached out a hand to feel them but before he could she had moved aside her hair to one side and pulled down the back of her dress. He could see even more scars there. 

Now he knew, he knew her secret, the secret she was keeping from her father and brothers. 

Quickly she pulled the back of her dress up quickly and shoved down her sleeve so she looked as she had before. Now instead of looking at the fire, she looked at the floor. Tears were glistening in her eyes and shamed marked her face. Jon gently reached down and pulled her chin up to look at him. She had her eyes closer but when she slowly opened them Jon saw disgust and fear, as if she was worried that that was what he saw in her scars. “Sansa,” he began but stopped. He wasn’t sure what to say. What to say to make her feel better. “Scars are only on the outside.” She looked away and Jon knew that he had screwed it up.

She pulled her face away and turned back to the fire. He watched her for a few minutes and then he turned back to the fire. He was surprised when she spoke again, “I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to be weak.”

“Sansa, you are anything but weak.”

She laughed that off like she didn’t think that she had any strength. “I want to be strong. Can you teach me?” She looked at him with a hopeful look in her eyes, willing him to help her. He was about to say no, but she could see that and interceded. “Please Jon, I know that you helped Arya. That you gave her that sword.”

Jon felt that he had no options other than to help her. Ned would disagree and hate the idea, that’s why Jon had tried to hide Arya’s sword from him. He hesitantly agreed before Sansa threw her arms around his throat barely cutting off his air. 

She pulled back from him with a large smile on her face but the smile quickly dimmed. “You can’t tell them.” Jon was about to ask her what he could tell when she spoke again. “You can’t tell them about the scars.” Jon silently agreed but that was only for now, he would convince her later to tell their family the truth. Probably after Ramsey was dead and burned. 

“What happened?”

“Jon, you have to promise me that you won’t tell them.” She gazed at him with blazing eyes, eyes that would see if her were to lie. He slowly nodded his head, affirming the promise. “He cut me. Every night, he cut me and raped me.” 

Jon felt anger like he never had before growing inside of him. The anger was hot and blazing, almost burning him up. He wanted to head out that night and burn that son of a bitch alive. He could fear the fire in his eyes but as he looked back at Sansa he could see that she didn’t need him to avenge her. “We will get him, I promise you Sansa.”

She nodded her head and flipped back her read mane of hair. “I know, but promise me one more thing Jon.” She waited until he nodded his head then spoke, “Promise me that when we retake Winterfell that I get to kill Ramsey.” Jon saw fire flash in her eyes and a murderous gleam brew. It was almost disconcerting to see such malice in Sansa, so much as odds with her demure style. Jon nodded his promise. She would get the kill but first he would beat the shit out of him.

Jon and Sansa sat in front of the fire for a good long time together in silence. They didn’t need to speak anymore, everything that had needed to be said was said. Now the two unlikeliest of allies had become confidents, what was the world coming to?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little catch up with Arya, a little meeting with Baelish and some planing for a battle.

Arya had taken revenge for her mother and what would look like revenge for her brother. She had murdered the Frey household. She had watched every single male die clutching their throat like her mother had died only their death was more painful. She had always had the look of evil in her eyes and she had proved that the wolves were not to be trifled with.

The morning after she wore a different mask, this mask was to help her blend in more with the remaining servants. It had been a genius move because it was that morning that a very large party had ridden up to the castle. A party all on horses in light blue with the sigil of the Vale. One lonely man entered the castle and Arya watched as he entered the dining hall where the bodies of the Freys still littered the ground.

She had seen this man before, a small squirrely man with a goatee. This man was Peytr Baelish, an old friend of her mothers. He had been on the small council with her father. She had heard many tales about him, about his brothels and about his desires to rise above his station. She wondered why this man was at the head of her Aunt’s army. He did not look like a commander or a fighter.

She didn’t trust him and something felt off about him. She watched as he entered the dining hall, looked around quickly then came out and left. His whole visit lasted only a few minutes. He didn’t ask any of the servants questions, he didn’t have to, the message in the hall was clear.

She entered the dining hall to see her handiwork one last time. Bodies littered the floor, blood was splashed on the floor, tables and linens. The body of Walder Frey sat slumped in his chair with his face on a spike stuck into the table before the body. Above the entire scene was a message written in blood on the wooden wall, WINTER HAS COME. She had told Frey’s wife to tell everyone of what she had witnessed but Arya couldn’t help make a clear scene.

Her job here was done, now her mission continued, but before that she felt a need to visit her childhood home.

**********

The Stark family plus their most trusted friends were all gathered in the dining hall for a late breakfast as it was empty and less likely of being overheard. Jon and Ned sat at the very center of one of the table across from each other. Robb sat at Jon’s left while Tormund sat at his right. Sansa sat at Ned’s right across from Robb while Rickon sat across from Tormund. 

They were having a pleasant meal chatting about life and various aspects of their lives when one of Jon’s old brothers came to give him a letter. “A letter for you, Lord Commander.” Jon frowned at the use of his old title but said nothing. 

Jon skimmed the letter, his anger growing with every sentence. He wanted to burn the letter and every vile thing that it stated. Robb felt him tense up and read the letter over his shoulder. Jon looked up, first meeting his uncle’s eyes and then his sisters. Sansa seemed to know from whom the letter was from and she tensed as Robb took the letter from Jon’s hand and began to read it out loud. 

"To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind. You have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride north and slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You--" Robb stopped, his face going pale.

Sansa motioned him to continue, afraid for what she would hear but wanting to know what her evil husband had written. “Go on.

“It's just more of the same.” Sansa knew that it wasn’t. She looked at Jon and saw the conformation on his face. 

She ripped the letter out of Robb’s hand and read the rest of the letter. "You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister. Then I will spoon the eyes from her sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Robb questioned. How could Ramsey become lord he was a bastard and his father was alive?

“His father's dead. Ramsay killed him.” Sansa said matter of factly. She knew it in her bones, a monster like that would never have his hunger quenched. 

That afternoon Sansa came to him with a note. The note was from Lord Baelish, that he wanted to meet with her in Mole’s town. Jon wanted to tell his uncle and brothers, to have them all kill Baelish together but Sansa stopped him. She convinced him that she had a plan that would get them help and revenge. 

In the end Sansa and Jon were accompanied by Brienne. Jon stayed outside while his ever-present guard followed the women inside.

Sansa felt safe. She was supported by the woman who had helped her escape her abusive husband. Her back was watched by the one person who understood her scars and for the first time since Lady was murdered she felt the safe presence of a direwolf. She knew that Baeilish would never hurt her, she meant too much to him but she wanted to feel safe all the same. 

“Sansa.” Baelish was extremely relieved when he saw her but less thrilled when he saw who walked in after her. “Lady Brienne.” When I heard you had escaped Winterfell, I feared the worst. You have no idea how happy I am to see you unharmed.” He rushed forward to her to hold her hands but she whipped them back like she had been burned. 

“Unharmed?” She gave him a disgusted look, carefully keeping her true mask under wraps. “What are you doing here?”

“I rode north with the Knights of the Vale to come to your aid. They're encamped at Moat Caitlin as we speak.” Sansa could tell that he was hiding something, but he was always hiding something. This something seemed to frighten him as he kept glancing towards the wolf and gulping. 

Sansa questioned him, torturously. She asked him very personal questions that she knew he didn’t want to answer but he did while glancing as Ghost occasionally. As a young girl she had always felt nervous around the silent albino but now all she felt was calm. She looked into it eyes and she could have sworn she saw a glimpse of purple in the red but she dismissed the idea. 

She now knew that Baelish had known about Ramsey’s attributes when he had betrothed them. She would have liked nothing better than to see this man bleed out at her feet, horribly in pain, but they needed him for the time being. 

“I don't need you anymore. You can't protect me. You won't even be able to protect yourself if I tell Brienne to cut you down.” She knew the story of her uncle and Baelish, knew that he would never be able to protect himself using swords. “And why shouldn't I?”

“Do you want me to beg for my life? If that's what you want, I will. Whatever you ask that is in my power, I will do.” He looked pathetic begging for his life.

“What if I want you to die here and now?”

“Then I will die.” Sansa felt the wolf tense up as if it was about to strike, but she calmly laid a hand on its head and it settled a bit. Only Starks could touch Direwolves, it must be something in the blood.

“You freed me from the monsters who murdered my family and you gave me to other monsters who murdered my family.”

“Please, I will do anything.” Sansa contemplated her next word carefully. She looked towards Brienne who gave a shrug back to her that said that she would do whatever her mistress wanted. 

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Will you help me retake Winterfell?”

Sansa watched his face very carefully, seeing the exact moment his eyes gleamed at prospects this request offered. “I do not have enough men to siege a castle.” His face dropped but not his eyes. He thought that if he looked unhappy enough at the thought that she would just come back to the Eyrie with him and live there as his queen.

“I will write letters to the other houses of the north, asking them to join my cause.”

“My lady, do you not think it unwise to go to so much effort. I do not wish to see you defeated.”

“We will not be defeated, not with Jon as commander.”

“Jon?”

“Yes my brother.”

“Ah, yes, your bastard brother. Is he not a man of the night’s watch? I thought that they could not fight in wars concerning the seven kingdoms.” Lord Baelish said in way that made it sound as if her were unsure but Sansa knew that he knew everything there was to know about her brother, well mostly everything. 

“He has been released from his vows.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Go back to Moat Cailin and retrieve your army. Meet us north of Winterfell in the valley opening in two fortnights.”

Baelish turned to leave but turned back around as if he had just thought of something. “A thought just occurred to me my lady. If your brother was truly released from his vows then he is the last son of Eddard Stark. He could claim control of the north ahead of you.

“Jon would never do that to me.”

“He is a bastard after all my lady. You may not know him as well as you think.” He then turned and left the building. 

*****

Arya had followed her aunt’s army all the way to Moat Caitlyn, although with every mile that they journeyed north she became more convinced that it was not her aunt’s army but this Lord Baelish’s. She had carefully blended with the back of the pack, with the workers. She had silently watched and listened, disguised as a young boy wanting to see the world. 

She had learned many things that made her decision to go north all the more right. She knew for her questioning of Lord Frey that Baelish had been one of the dealmakers in the Bolton’s elevation to Warden of the North. She knew that Baelish had helped them betray her father, brother and mother. 

Each night as they made camp she stole away to stand watch as Baelish’s tent. Each night she wanted to walk into his tent and make him pay for what he had done to her family but each night she abstained. She had a feeling that he had a plan of some sort, she just needed to figure it out and then change it in the Stark’s favor.

******** 

The small party made their way back to Castle Black slowly. Jon and Sansa continued their discussion from earlier. “We do not know if he will betray us. He could inform Ramsey and then he could send out a party like he did with Stannis.”

Sansa smirked at him, “He could do that but this way he has two choices, betray me and have me killed which he wouldn’t do or help me and he could have me for himself.”

“He can’t have you.”

She smiled. Lord Baelish had always thought that he had the game planned out but he was about to find out that he didn’t know it quite as well as he seemed. “I know that but he doesn’t.”

They started planning for the take back of their family home the next day after they had had some time to cool down after Ramsey’s letter. With Sansa’s help, they had an idea of what the Boltons had to offer. She told them that she had once overheard Ramsey say that he had at least 5000 men when Stannis was about to siege Winterfell. 

They had gathered in the Lord Commander’s office which Edd had lent them for their planning sessions. They had a map laid out on the desk with wooden sigils around the map of the north. They each spoke of a plan that could work, using their strengths. They all contemplated the map, it was Robb’s plan that held the most merit. “Maybe we can get a few of the houses to pledge to the Boltons for an advantage.”

“Robb, none of the houses would support the Boltons, not now that the Starks are all alive.”

“If a few of the major houses like the Karstarks or the Umbers could bolster Ramsey’s ego, it could draw him out making it easier for us to beat him.”

“Wait, you want to try to get houses to support Ramsey and the have them turn on him in battle? Robb that is dishonorable.” Sansa gasped, her face morphed into outrage. “Jon tell him.”

Jon sighed and then gave Sansa a sad look. “I know it is dishonorable but we do not have the time to wait out the Boltons. We need to get Winterfell as soon as possible, before winter comes.” She stepped away from the table and into a corner where Jon followed her. He now whispered to her, to avoid having their family hear them. “Sansa how is this any different than what you are trying to get Baelish to do?”

She gave him a look of betrayal but Jon knew that she was only wrestling with the Honorable Stark gene that they all struggled with. “I know that this situation is very similar, I only wish it weren’t so. I just worry about everything.” Jon nodded at her and then turned back to the table where his brothers were planning the attack. 

They talked for several hours, planning and strategizing. They decided that it would be Sansa who would write to the houses and request their audience as they would not likely answer a perceived bastard’s and no one would believe that Robb was alive.

Jon had been adamant that no ravens were to go out without his approval of the letter’s contents. He didn’t want any of their future allies to know of his heritage. It was of vital importance that no one know quite yet, he didn’t want people to be swayed by that thought. He wanted to see who would flock to the Stark’s side by their name alone.

It was a few mornings after their initial planning session when they got several ravens back with an agreement to speak with Sansa at a secure location. They decided that they should leave for the battle the next morning with all of their soldiers. Ned spoke with him after the meeting saying that he would be staying at Castle Black.

“Why uncle? I will pardon you. You don’t deserve this.”

“Jon, I committed treason against the king that I helped put on the throne. I do not regret my actions but that does not mean that I am immune to the punishment. Besides there is much work to be done here before the war.”

Jon realized that it wouldn’t help to argue with his uncle over his decision so he reluctantly agreed. 

The next morning the Stark children rode out with their small group of advisors to meet up with Tormund and the rest of the free folk. They had each hugged their father silently praying to the gods that they meet again. Jon felt confident about the eventual outcome of the battle for Winterfell, but in war anything could go wrong. It had been decided that Bran would stay at Castle Black until after the battle for safety and Ned would bring him down when the battle was over. 

For the first time Jon would be going south as a man free from his vows. He would not come back until he had the men and the supplies to win this war. He would come back to bring the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that i am a little late in getting an update up and i am sorry for that. I packing up to move, i don't move for another three weeks so i hope to get as much packing done now so i would have time to write. 
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Battle for Winterfell is up next!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited, the battle for Winterfell!!
> 
> The first time I wrote this I absolutely loved it, then my harddrive crashed and I lost it. I think that i like this version better.
> 
> I hope you like it.

It was several miles from the wall when they came upon a party of men on horses led by a harsh looking woman. They smelled of the sea.

The woman spoke first, “Robb Stark?” Robb nodded yes to this woman he had never seen before. “I am Yara Greyjoy, sister to Theon.”

“Yes my lady. May I ask what you are doing so far from the sea?”

“I received a raven from a Sansa Stark.” Everyone turned to look towards Sansa but he expression never changed.

“Are you here to help us?”

Yara’s voice matched her face, grim and serious. “I am here to get back my baby brother.”

***** 

Two weeks after their party had left the wall they were met beside a mountain by the various houses of the north. Lords Glover, Manderly, Tallhart, Hornwood and Lady Mormont awaited them as well as a representative of house Umber and Karstark. Jon’s party of free folk had already set up camp around the commander’s tent. They had left room for the Lord’s tents but left no room for their soldiers. The soldiers had to stay on the outside of the encampment.

They gathered all of the lords and their top men together before entering themselves. Sansa led the group as she was the one who had invited them. Robb followed then Jon and the rest of their party. The lords all stood in a circle looking towards them, each lord or lady surrounded by their men. Yara Greyjoy stood to the immediate left of the Starks with her party of Iron born which some of the northerners were having trouble with. Jon stood in the middle of Sansa and Robb with Brienne and Sandor standing directly behind him. Ghost was at the very end of the party but as he moved closer the men all drew back, cowering in their boots. Of course many of them had seen the direwolves before, but that had been a long time ago and they had never seen one this big. Ghost moved to stand in front of Jon then sat staring at every single person as if he was daring them to make a move.

Robb began the summit, “Thank you all for answering my sister’s summons and joining us. You all know me, you know who I am. My name is Robb Stark, Eddark Stark’s eldest son. We have gathered you all here for a very important reason. Jon.” Robb nodded towards his brother.

Jon stepped forward. “There is a great war ahead of us. A war that will redefine us, that will redefine Westeros. This war is far greater than any battle to reclaim Winterfell.” Jon stopped for a few moments to let that sink in before revealing the thing that would completely change their lives. “An army of the dead has arisen lead by the Night King and his leaders, the White Walkers.” The men all smirked and laughed as what they thought was a preposterous claim. “You all scoff at the idea, at the stories. You all remember the bedtime stories. They are no longer stories. They. Are. Real.” Jon looked around at every lord and lady urging them to believe him with his eyes. “I have seen them, I have fought them. I was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, it was my decision to let the wildlings, the free folk south of the wall. This was not only an effort to help them but to save them. There used to be a hundred thousand of them, only five thousand remain.” He paused while a few of the men began to whisper among themselves. “We will only succeed, we will only win if we are united. We are flesh and blood, living and breathing and our true enemy lays to the north. This battle to reclaim Winterfell is only the first step towards a victory. We will need it to survive. To live.” 

Lord Glover spoke up, “Why should we believe you?”

“You don’t trust my word?” Jon waved his hand as if to wipe away his words. “That’s fine, we have proof.” He waved his hand his group separated and Tormund stepped forwards and brought forth a chain with a wight attached to it. The wight screamed and tried to reach out towards the people but Tormund pulled it back.

A few of the soldiers yelled out, a few of the lords had paled and Lady Mormont stepped back from the dark creature. She looked towards Jon and he caught her eye, “How far away is the war?”

“It is nearly here, we should only pray we have enough time.” 

Lord Manderly recovered himself and spoke up looking towards Robb, “I will follow you Lord Stark.”

Robb shook his head, “It is admirable that you would chose me to lead you but I must decline. I am not your commander. I have never fought in a war, I have never led men. I will look towards my brother Jon Snow to lead us.” Robb faced Jon and would not look away.

A soldier from the back of the group spoke over everyone, “A bastard?” Jon tried hard not to flinch at the word but failed.

Robb defended him, “Jon Snow may be a bastard but he is the only one who will be able to lead us through the Great war. We are not fighting for throne or a title, we are fighting for our lives. We are fighting for the dawn.”

******

Arya had been traveling with the knights of the Vale for several weeks. She had camped with them in the marsh lands surrounding Moat Caitlyn for almost a month before they moved on. It that time she had learned quite a bit about the man they followed. Though Arya had met Lord Baelish as a child and heard him speak and listened to things about him, she learned even more now. She learned that almost none of the men accepted him as Lord Protector of the Vale. They all thought him squirrelly and conniving. 

The party had to travel miles around Winterfell to avoid being seen, through the Wolf’s wood. Most of the men were terrified of the Wolf’s wood, claimed that dire wolves prowled it, waiting to carry off anyone who traveled alone. Arya could feel her home, could almost feel the heat from the hot springs. She wished that she could just slip into the castle and kill all of the Boltons that resided there, but first she wanted to see her family. 

They reached the camp nearly at nightfall which was earlier in the north than in the south. She slipped away as soon as she could and crept all the way through the camp silently. In the center of the camp was the largest tent, a tent she could bet that her siblings were in.

She kept the mask that she wore one her face until she slipped into the tent. She stood at the entrance and saw her family around her. Robb and Jon stood at a table with a map and figurines on it. Sansa, whom she had not seen in several years, sat near the fire in the center sewing something. And a young boy knelt on the ground sharpening a sword with a whet stone. Every single person in the tent looked up to find a stranger.

Jon reached for the sword at his side first ready to go after what he would assume is the enemy. Robb was a few second behind. The three direwolves that had laid down near the fire were up and growling towards her. It was Nymeria, a sight she had not seen in many years, that recognized her first, sitting down at her feet. The Starks were shocked, the only people that direwolves accepted were Starks.

Arya removed her face and further shocked her siblings. All four of them spoke her name at the same time and rushed forward to hug her. The five Stark children embraced each other and cried tears of joy.

They spoke over each other, asking questions and speaking snippets of their lives. Jon was shocked that she still had the sword he had given her. Robb was so happy that his little sister who he had allowed to leave came home safe and sound. Sansa smiled and Arya was happy that her sister had survived and seemed to have thrived. Rickon was no longer a little child but a young man.

Davos walked into the tent as they were exchanging stories, shocked to see a new person in the family tent. “A Lord Baelish is here, he wishes to speak with you Lady Sansa.”

Sansa spoke up and noticed that Arya had momentarily froze. “He can speak with us all. You can bring him in.”

Lord Baelish sauntered in expected to only see Sansa and instead he saw most of the Stark children including three he had thought we dead. “Oh, Lady Sansa, I thought we were meeting in private.”

“There is no need Lord Baelish, anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my siblings.” 

Baelish smiled and attempted to remedy the situation, “Lord Stark, I had heard that you had been killed.”

Robb stared him down, having heard the truth of his relationship with Sansa from Jon, “We Starks are hard to kill.”

“Lady Arya, I had feared you had perished in King’s Landing.”

Arya smiled at the man, “No, in fact I had just arrived myself from White Harbor, spent some time in Essos.”

The man was obviously uncomfortable with the closeness of the siblings, “Well, I will leave you all to catch up.” He retreated from the tent and left them to reminisce.

****** 

Jon, Robb, Sansa and the rest of his advisors with the addition of the lords and lady rode out to meet with Ramsey. They had arrived first while the Boltons strolled up proudly. Jon could instantly tell which one was Ramsey and not because he was in the center but he was the only one with a smile on his face and a cruel smile at that. 

“My beloved wife. I've missed you terribly. Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safely. Now, dismount and kneel before me, surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Robb snorted and shook his head at Ramsey. He met Jon’s eyes and the both of them internally rolled their eyes at Ramsey’s proclamation. “I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house. Come, bastard, you don't have the men, you don't have the horses, and you don't have Winterfell.” Jon wanted to smile, their rouse had worked. To the Boltons it seemed as if Jon’s army was only a third of what it really was. “Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? There's no need for a battle. Get off your horse and kneel. I'm a man of mercy.”

Jon nodded at his words, “You're right. There's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us. Let's end this the old way. You against me.” Jon’s men smiled at his suggestion. 

Ramsey chuckled, “I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you, you're the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good. Maybe not. I don't know if I'd beat you. But I know that my army will beat yours. I have 6,000 men. You have, what, half that? Not even?” 

Jon smirked or did something that resembled a smirk, “Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?” Ramsey’s smile dropped off his face and he looked outraged. 

He looked that way for several moments before another smile broke out, this one even more cruel than the last. “He's good. Very good.”

For the first time Sansa spoke hatred seeping into her words. “You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well.” She then rode off followed by Brienne and Podrick. 

“She's a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed.” Jon reached out his hand towards his brother to stop him for hurling himself off his horse and attacking Ramsey right there. They both seethed with hatred at a man who would talk about their sister in that way. “And you're all fine-looking men. My dogs are desperate to meet you. I haven't fed them for seven days. They're ravenous. I wonder which parts they'll try first. Your eyes? Your balls? We'll find out soon enough. In the morning, then, bastard.” Ramsey left then back to their home. 

******

The next morning, the day of the battle, dawned bright and cold. Jon and Robb exited their tent already dressed in their battle leathers. Both of their hair was tied back from their faces and they both had grim looks on their faces. 

Sansa stepped out of her tent across from theirs wearing a different type outfit than she had ever worn. It was an outfit she had been working on for days, an outfit she just got right. She wore a dark wool dress that had breeches underneath. The dress was tight fitting but comfortable around her arms and chest and flowed out at her waist. A leather vest that she had sewn herself stretched across her chest. It was laced up her front and covered her breasts like armor. One her back, the vest held 2 pockets where she could keep daggers up the back. On her arms, leather cuffs were laced up her forearms. Her red hair was tied back into a braid behind her but the tail waved in the cold breeze. She looked like a warrior queen. 

Both Jon and Robb were shocked that the sight of their sister. Jon got his words back first, “You look like a warrior.”

Sansa smiled, happy with the effect her new armor had. “I might not be able to fight like one yet, but I sure as hell can dress like one.”

Arya stepped out behind Sansa wearing an almost identical leather vest. Arya’s only difference was that the back of her vest held small pockets for small knives which were empty as they were not made yet. Arya had been shocked when her sister had presented her with the vest earlier that morning. Sansa had said that she had started on the vest when she had heard that she was still alive and knew it was only a matter of time before they would meet again.

The Starks were dressed for battle. 

According to their plan, the first line of their men was assembled. The small force of cavalry at the front followed by men on foot. Only a select few of the free folk were going to be fighting as the rest were under orders to hunt as much as possible and make as many furs as possible with Rickon as their leader. Tormund, Sandor and Brienne already stood that the front waiting for their commander. A large group of short range archers were assembled led by Davos. Far behind them lay the rest of their army, hidden out of sight. The knights of the vale waited nearly a mile away. A smaller group of long range archers led by Sansa stood on top of a hill, Arya stood with her. They were ready.

Jon, followed by Robb made their way up to the front of the army. The lord commander took several deep breathes as he awaited the start of the battle. Across the battlefield, flaming x’s lined the path to the banners of the flayed men. 

Jon could faintly see Ramsey at the front of his men. He held a bow and arrow in his hands. When he let it fly it hit the battlefield almost in the center. Jon could tell that he was baiting him, egging him on to see who would break first. For his training lessons with Sansa he had learned quite a bit about Ramsey Snow. He learned and he had accounted on that, changing his battle plan to fit the opposing leader.

Jon raised his sword signaling his men and the battle had begun.

Jon raced forward on his horse leading his men. His men were only a step behind him but soon the first cavalry reached him and held out spears that reached to the very front of the line. In front of them Ramsey had assembled a line of archers, but behind them his archers had already begun firing. Davos’ group fell to several yards before Ramsey’s men, causing his men to think them weak. Soon Ramsey sent his own cavalry and foot force. The Bolton men were in the center of the fighting force with the Umbers and Karstarks on either side.

As Davos’ men started to hit the first Bolton soldiers Sansa’s group started to rain fire to the back of the group so that they were stuck in the middle. 

The Cavalry’s met on the field.

Men and horses died to the left and right of him. Jon could hear arrows whizzing by, horses whining, men screaming. Blood flew everywhere and mud flew up from the ground like blood. Jon knew that Sansa’s group was still firing on the men at the very back of the enemy’s forces while Davos’ men had already joined the fighting force. 

At a point in the battle both the Karstarks and Umbers had switched sides and were attacking from the sided. Several minutes later he heard a horn and knew that the knights of the Vale had joined the fight. 

Jon knew that they had won, they had outmaneuvered Ramsey Bolton. 

Jon saw Ramsey retreat back into the castle so he signaled his men and he advanced. Robb, Tormund and Wun Wun followed after him. Ramsey had closed and bolted the wooden door. Wun Wun stepped forward and it took him only a few minutes to break most of it down but then hell had decended. Ramsey had ordered that oil be poured over the door and Wun Wun, then it was lit on fire. 

The door burned and Wun Wun along with it. The last giant died a fiery death.

Jon made to step through the flames but his brothers hand on his arm stopped him momentarily. Jon moved it off than stepped through the flames. 

When he came out on the other side everyone inside Winterfell was shocked. Jon’s armor had only burned a little but he didn’t flinch a bit. Almost as one the archers standing in the courtyard lowered their bows but Ramsey screamed and reached for his own.

“You suggested one-on-one combat, didn't you? I've reconsidered. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” He nocked an arrow and Jon dropped his sword and reached for a shield. But before he released it, Theon who had been standing behind him holding his arrows, stabbed him in the side with an arrow. Ramsey looked behind him at the man who had betrayed him than back towards the man that would kill him.

Jon punched Ramsey Bolton in the mouth and they both went down, Jon on top of Ramsey. He punched him several times before he heard his name and he stopped. Sansa stood behind him still dressed like a warrior queen and Jon remembered his promise. He was Sansa’s kill. 

The night Jon, Sansa, Robb and Arya stood at the closed doors to the kennel. Sansa stood in the very middle, the first thing that Ramsey would see when he woke up from the pain.

“Ah. Sansa. Hello, Sansa. Is this where I'll be staying now?... No. Our time together is about to come to an end. That's all right. You can't kill me. I'm part of you now.” His disgusting smile made Sansa’s stomach turn.

She hit right back at him “Your words will disappear. Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear.” Her words were the ultimate fear of any lord in Westeros. 

Ramsey’s dogs started growling and he looked around at the unlocked dog cages. “My hounds will never harm me.”

“You haven't fed them in seven days. You said it yourself.”

The growling intensified, “They're loyal beasts.”

“They were. Now they're starving.”

One of the dogs had climbed up on his chest, sniffing at the blood on his face. She could see fear in his eyes and terror in his voice. “Sit. Down. Down! Down! Down! Down!” Ramsey was screaming at the dogs attacked his body, tearing his flesh and crunching his bones. Eventually one of them had ripped out his throat and they were free from Ramsey Bolton.

**Author's Note:**

> I will add more later. In this story Ned lives and Robb does not become king.


End file.
